In Which I Give My Blood And Bone For The Glory Of Thomas Hunter

Running yesterday caused me some knee grief, but a night's sleep and an icepack did it some good. What has not assisted is standing for two hours solid to hand-hold the kiddies (by which I mean the Orientation people, not the freshmen) through fall semester registration, because CUNY is now doing it differently blah blah blah. What's even more vexing is that the wide-eyed newcomers have no idea that two of us are only here to help with accounts issues, and cannot help them with their grave and woeful concerns about whether to take Math 101 or Psych 101. Or what number to put in the circa-1972 interface to indicate same.

Also, the exact timing meant that I missed my train by about three minutes, leading to an hour's bounteous delights kicking around 34th St., where it is entirely impossible to find a quiet drink on a Thursday night. Feh.