Well, I've had enough of this recovery crap. Tomorrow I will get some things done, promise.
My wife called my dad today to tell him my bruised ribs was a broken one. You see he broke three of them five weeks ago and he's back on the mountain. He's 89. He spends his summers on the Rim in northern Arizona, him, his ratty old motorhome, ratty old Ranger pickemup, and then there's the ratty old dog. He moves every two weeks from camp ground to camp ground dry camping.
About 35 years ago there was an accident that involved multiple cars, broken motorcycle helmet, and separated ribs. Pole position in a heat race and the boy behind me hooked up and I didn't. He tapped me and I met the wall just below the flagman. Didn't hurt the wall at all. I didn't miss any work but every morning I had to lift out a telephone manhole cover to work as a contract splicer all day and then slide it back into place at the end of the day. First week or so that lid made me cry like a girl for a minute or two a couple of times a day.
Yesterday was an anomole because I've been able to cope with the pain/discomfort for the most part. I figure the rough road did something to the fracture to tick it off. So tomorrow I will take a different route and hopefully that fracture will act nice.