So I'd been carrying around the idea of this blog in my head for awhile now--letting the idea for it percolate, but mostly pondering the all-important question: what should it be called? I was pretty pleased with the name I came up with, and the meaning behind it, but before I even had a chance to make a single post, irony struck--in the form of a wickedly sprained ankle (note, gentle reader, that I have kindly spared you the gruesome pictures) which makes the 10 blocks between apartment and subway somewhat less of a pleasant ramble and more of a grueling, limping hike.
But while I'm not sure I'm enough of an optimist to declare it a silver lining, I will admit that the injury has slowed my usually-frenetic pace down a fair bit. There's a bit less walking, but a bit more pleasant noticing of things when I do manage to escape my mostly-housebound state. And slower walking does give me more time to think, so maybe I'll be grateful yet for the fact that those 10 blocks now feel a bit like 10 miles each morning and evening.
And, I suppose my mostly-couch-bound state does, in theory, give time for more reading of manuscripts . . . .