waiter, waiter, there's a cliche in my soup

I had problems falling asleep last night, dog-tired as I was; and just as I was achieving something like the mental composition required at about 1am, suddenly a ruckus moved into my field of hearing. I rushed to the window to see what was the matter--

A guy was walking down the street carrying a ghetto blaster, blaring at top volume. And by "ghetto blaster", I do indeed mean an enormous square stereo set of a size which necessitated him cradling it in both arms, and that only with difficulty.

There may just be a general 1970s time warp at play somewhere around me.

Yo-GA. Yo-GA. Yo-GA.

Now that it's Officially Fall, the open-recreation classes have started in the gym; and today I went to yoga for the first time. The instructor explained to me that it's somewhat intermediate-level, but they do get a lot of beginners, so I could just follow along at my own pace & do what I could, and feel free to rest if something was outside my comfort zone.

I did manage to keep up, if barely. I have definitely had A Workout. I also may have done something unpleasant to my bad knee, though I'm not sure what's responsible, exactly; but it's only sore and aching, not STAB STABBITY OW, so it's probably okay.

The instructor teaches Mon and Wed, and I hope to generally make both classes, as duties permit.

There is, unsurprisingly, a lot of crossover with certain aikido principles.

In Which There Are Struggles Against Futility

I was delayed at work (and my conscience pricked me to stay even longer, but the need to get up to the house before 8pm prodded me forward), so the plan ganged already somewhat a-gley. Then, while driving up the Parkway in the pimpmobile (which I have tentatively dubbed Bud), I rubbed my eyes, being weary; and suddenly I had that wonderfully unique eye-irritation which signifies your contact crumpling up into some corner of your eye socket and getting stuck there.

I had no eyedrops, saline, or the like, so there was no point pulling over. I squinted, peered through my fingers, and did other impact-minimalizing techniques for the remaining 10 minutes to Fair Lawn, which were nevertheless amongst the longest 10 minutes ever; and upon arrival blitzed into the bathroom. My eye was now bright red, swollen, and painful both open and closed. When Steve finally arrived at a quarter to eight, having himself been mightily delayed, I was flopped on the comfy chair, strewn with cats, with an icepack on my eye. It wasn't helping much.

It is to be understood that we do not foresee much productivity for the remainder of the evening. At this point, I'll just be grateful if my eye heals enough so I can put my contact back in and drive home.