Girls

When I first got to college my family pumped me for details on whether I'd "met any girls." Too stupid to know that they were digging for gossip, I answered factually: Of course. They wanted to know who I'd talked to, and where, and how often. I told them about this one young woman who talked to me every day before class. Between you and me, and across all these years, I think she was just a friendly, outgoing person. But my family built it up into this big, significant thing, with more and more questions. They seemed very interested. I didn't grasp quite why I wanted to stop answering their questions, but I did stop.

I went to see my neurologist yesterday. On his dynamometer my left left grip was down to 29, and my right was even at 97. My weight was 138, slightly up from last time and above my target of 137. My neurologist, always the empiricist, noticed an x-axis problem with the grip strength chart. He actually ripped off a piece of paper and made a makeshift ruler, then counted out the days, of which there were too few. I turns out I had used my graphing software incorrectly. The data is still the same, but I have now split it into two charts, to correctly show the passage of time.

Left grip is 37 pounds (31, 36, 37), right grip is 87 pounds (87, 85, 82), left leg balance is 6.94 seconds, and inhale volume is 4500 mL.