During these latest holidays, I spent quite some time in a floating chair at 36,000 feet. While flying is (was?) humanity’s greatest dream, they say, I doubt it ought to last for hours when all you’re doing is sitting and avoiding your sleepy neighbor’s drool.
Instead I plugged some noise cancelling earphones, and opened my laptop to prepare some basic ideas for my upcoming talk at the french OSDC this october. After a while it turned into coding, writing, rambling, deleting, and suffering from my left wrist.
The first sign your wrist is wrong is when it still hurts after 15 minutes. At our arrival in SF I was not sure I should drive and let the job to my friend. Two days later I had to get an wrist-band to avoid any movement of the articulation that was now hurting like a bitch almost non-stop. Luckily It went away all by itself after a few days and I could drive and masturbate properly again.
Kids, take care of your own body, for now we only have one.