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I need my hand, dammit

Mad, mad, mad. My hand started twingeing fiercely at the day-job on Monday. I got in to the doctor's on Tuesday and he said it was a soft tissue damage from overuse. On the one hand, of course, yay that it's not carpal tunnel syndrome or something horrible like that. But I'm supposed to take it easy and let it heal up and... I'm not doing a very good job of it.

I'm so right handed I almost can't hold onto something with my left hand without dropping it. I switched computer mice so that I've got one where I don't grind the heel of my hand into my desk so much, and I'm trying to do more work on my laptop where there's no mouse at all. But it's just the time of year where I've got to do ten tons of work at the day-job, plus I've got a novella I've got to finish soon and some other things called "decodable stories" that I'm working on. (These are stories that beginning readers are supposed to be able to figure out for themselves if you only use words from a given list. I think it's like the antithesis of phonics or something. I write these by hand, and this was where I first noticed that my hand wasn't working anymore--writing with a pen.)

I've purchased an alternative pen called Pen Again. In fact, I bought two. My writing was never beautiful, and now it's even more hideous. Or utilitarian. I guess it just depends on how you look at it.

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