While we’re on the subject of battery-operated gizmos...

 

Does anyone else have Repetitive Stress Syndrome from too much finger-to-electronic-device action? No, I am not referring to masturbation here. Although I’d put good money on that one. Somewhere in the world there exists a cramped up self-pleasurer who is forced to wear a supportive brace that is a hideous shade of beige and has Velcro tabs that pick up lint balls, crumbs and other gross miscellaneous items.

I’m talking about RSS from too much typing on computers (mostly) but also too much texting and general tech-fidgeting. I’ve got it bad. It’s painful and totally sucks. I am a romance novelist. My collection of smut totals 430,000 words and change. Each one of those words was carefully crafted, sculpted and molded by my ten digits. And now I’m the idiot who has to wear the lame braces. At least mine are navy blue. Dare I even call the shade “French Marine”? They may be “Indian Indigo” or “Andalusian Azure”, but let me tell you, I am not thrilled to be adding them to my nightly routine. A regimen of ridiculous steps all designed to keep my 42-year-old-face and bod staying put. Or as put as I can manage.

First we start with the hair brushing. I do have lustrous long locks (if I do say so myself) and they get tangled as all shit if I don’t brush them. I sleep with them in braids or sometimes a silk cap (I’m not kidding). I won’t even tell you about the skin care because that would put me into the million word range as a writer. Next come the chompers. We’re talking picking, brushing, bleaching etc. Mouth guard is snapped into place. Next we have eye and lid hygiene. (My eyes are also burned out from staring at computers too many hours a day). Sometimes I sleep in an eye mask, to block out my annoying neighbor’s headlights. A kid half my age who sometimes “sexts” me, so I guess the routine is paying off. After eye drops have been administered, the lips are lubed. Then I move onto my hide. My entire form is carefully greased to prevent crackage. At last I crawl into bed, but not after I have taped on my braces. This is supposed to keep my wrists straight while I sleep and speed the recovery of my swollen tendons. Whatever, they sort of looks like Batwoman forearm blades, right?

Wrong.

I’m sure I’ve painted a pretty picture. It’s a good thing I don’t have any gentleman callers at present because I look like swaddled preserved anchovy when I sleep. Don’t worry, I still clean up good.

What to do? Will I have to start typing with my nose, perhaps my well-polished toes? One thing is for certain: I don’t need to check my phone 48 times a day. I’ve definitely put myself on sext restriction. Tessa needs to save her strength.