Usually we head to the MIT gym on Tuesdays: some pushups, situps, jumping jacks, maybe a few dozen of this doofy squat/press combo thing that invariably leaves my thighs feeling like tempered steel afterward (if steel felt like ow), then off to the weight room for the usual Huge Train routine. It's nice. I'd worried about sacrificing one of our weekly Big Fitness Days on the altar of the milonga; it's not like I'm gonna stick to salad to make up for lack of exercise. Well, I needn't have worried so much: I woke up this morning with fun fun burning pain issuing from every joint and muscle, not least my back, which was also causing some of my I Didn't Know I Could Stand Up Straight Instead of Hunching Over Like a Goddamn Bell-Ringing French Literary Character neurons to fire. Gaily. They gaily fired. Ow.
I have much to look forward to. Including, perhaps, an Advil. Marvolo, Reader(s). Absolutely marvolo.
(Sidenote: don't bother googling 'tango howto'; some asshole invented a programming language by that name. Might I suggest searching YouTube, which has an entire, like, 14-part instructional series? Plus an armful of other tango instruction in grainy frame-dropping video form, gratis. The earth offers up her virtue once more all digital-like.)