Love In The Asylum

Made my first bike commute today! And I escaped completely unscathed, if you ignore the part where I ran into the curb trying to get onto the sidewalk and fell over. Or the part where I was walking my bike back from the mailbox and slipped on the grass and fell off the edge of the parking lot. I don't think that one counts though, because I probably would have fallen over whether or not my bike was there. I mean, I currently have bandages or healing injuries on six different parts of my body - both my feet where I got rubbed raw spots from trying to hike through the desert to a volcano in slide sandals (not my idea, I promise you), my thumb where I burned myself on a cookie sheet and then somehow sliced myself open washing the blade of the food processor, and now my skinned knees. It has not been the most successful month for my body-having skills, is the point here.

But anyway my ability to not fall on my face aside, the bike commute was pretty painless - I was worried about being able to get my bike on and off the bus rack, but the frame of my new bike is very light (one of the reasons I bought, the others being that it had a crossbar and seat low enough I could actually get on and off without using a curb to balance, and that it was blue), and it wasn't any trouble at all. Even if the first time I put it in backward, and the second time I got glared at by the bus driver for not putting the rack back up when I got off. Mostly, it was just really nice to have time again. I didn't have to worry about being late for work if I stopped for a thirty-second breather, I didn't feel like I had to rush as much as I could to make sure I made my bus on time, I just set my own pace and had plenty of time to spare. That extra five minutes to comb my hair and put myself together before my shift starts feels like such a luxury right now.

Can't wait until this weekend, honestly. I am thinking of scoping out the bike routes around my apartment complex, certainly biking to the grocery store. If I can convince myself that Sunday is a wearing-pants day, I might even bike over to the public library.

I'm not sure what exactly happened, but when iTunes updated the other day, something got borked in the update, and when I reopened it after all my music was gone. All the music files on my external hard drive were still there, iTunes just wasn't reading them. Very odd! So I reuploaded my entire library, all 1400 songs, and I had all my music back. But I was not very happy about it, because it meant all my extras were gone - all my slashy playlists, all my fixed song titles, but mostly my playcounts. It was disconcerting to see all my songs listed as never having been listened to. Especially as I am rather OCD about knowing what I listen to when.

So today, I overslept quite badly, and that always throws my day really badly. I didn't have the energy to actually do anything, like go grocery shopping, so I decided to devote myself to doing all the Max-upkeep things I put off all the time. First on the list: fixing my iTunes. It took a lot of googling and several false starts, but finally I figured out that there is a previous library file saved in the program folder that you can change to the primary library file. And then it was just a matter of a) going through and re-fixing the 200-odd songs that iTunes, because of my meddling, couldn't find anymore (fuuuuuuuun), and b) re-importing the 10 or so songs that I hadn't made the crossover. It was really ridiculously tedious, but now I have all my music and all my music stats back, so I'm pretty proud of myself.

Do I have a "ways I have injured myself" tag? I really need one, if I don't. Today I pulled a fairly impressive one - I was taking some pictures of my desk (I felt a need for documentation of what is possibly one of the geekiest desk spaces ever), and I couldn't get a good pic of the upper shlef, so I climbed onto my desk chair. This...was not such a good idea! I got my picture, but then I shifted my weight a little wrong and the chair tipped, spilling me over into the window. The bruise on my leg is truly amazing - it's actually more a badly-scraped up, very painful dent in my shin where the edge of the chair caught me. And I'm pretty sure anyone walking by the window right then could hear me calling the chair a ousy son of a motherfucker. *rolls eyes* Sometimes I wonder how I've managed to live this long.