I was stupid last night. When I finished my overhead presses at the gym (5,5,4, alas, instead of 3x5), I dropped the bar, which is perfectly reasonable, since I was using the bumper plates. But I wasn't careful while holding onto it on the way down and somehow wrenched my wrist as it passed my knees. It doesn't hurt except occasionally when I move it in a way that tries to get it to hurt. It annoyed me because it stopped me from doing my cleans afterwards. So I did pullups instead, which, oddly, didn't hurt the wrist. I'm not worried at all, just annoyed.

I've spent the last two days at a planning retreat for my group. I also got a bonus for being awesome. But everybody else got one. I'm not sure how mine compared. I hope this doesn't bode ill for our annual performance bonuses coming up.

I think I'll get a pocket watch, a three-piece suit, all my Christmas shopping, and 20 billion shares of Citigroup with it.

Women: can't live with 'em, pass the beer nuts.

My plan: take some exams in May, get the hell out of Dodge when the results come in. I swear I can hold out until then. I swear. A fixed exit date, even if it's six months away, is enough to motivate me.

Today's Krugman quote: "So here’s what I’m wondering: will it, in fact, even be possible to pull the economy out of its nosedive before unemployment goes into double digits?" My guess: no. I should probably lay up more money in rather liquid savings just in case. And make myself inextricable from our processes. Too bad I have doubts about whether anything we do adds any real value...

Ah, risk management...