Numbers

Numbers are a funny thing. They have a weight far in excess of their actual value. Take freedom of movement.

I went to my therapy this morning, and, after stretching, had my freedom of movement measured. This is a measure of how far I can lift my arm, unaided. I've been telling people that I have about 60 or 70 percent motion. The total range of motion should be about 160 degrees. When the guy measured it, it came out to 105 degrees. This is good; last week it was 95 degrees, so thats a substantial jump. As it turns out, 105/160 works out to be just about 65% -- so my guess was pretty good. The thing is, I was lowballing it. I actually thought it was more like 70%, or maybe a bit more. Seeing that, I thought: Only 65%?

Speaking of numbers, the Democrats are calculating like crazy. A site that I look at on occasion has been forecasting that the Senate will be 50% Democrat, 49% Republican, and 1% independent (and how popular do you think that person will be?), while the House will be 219 Democrats, 215 Republicans, and one they're not sure about. To me, thats a clean sweep; happy days are here again. (That is, if you assume having to clean up the sludge left by the current administration is 'happy'. Not everyone would think it has to be cleaned up, for one thing; some probably simply want a bigger share.) But according to the New York Times, thats not really true. Although they would be numerically in control, they wouldn't have overwhelming control -- the kind that the Republicans had, six years ago. They'd have enough to be blamable, but not enough to ensure having everything their way -- assuming the Democrats could all agree on what that even meant. (Thus you see the worth of the Republican hive mind.) And, therefore, perhaps they ought to back off a little, try to almost have superiority, but not quite -- so that the roles are reversed. How much is enough? Apparently, more than you can count on, no matter what that value might be.

On the work side, they're restarting the project I bailed from, and they want me involved -- this after I ran from it, telling them I was burned out, ayudame, no mas. And the scary part is: it sounded attractive to me. C'mon, just one line of cocaine, one toke -- how bad could it be?

Oh, and my system IPLd. Second try. This is a good thing.