Computation, Caffeination, and Conflagration

I bike in the rain. Biking in the rain is great fun. I use the following decision tree when considering biking in the rain:

Wake up
    It is raining
        It rained yesterday
            YES: Bike to work
        It did not rain yesterday
            NO: The roads are slippery; cajole a ride or take a bus.
    It is not raining
        Its a beautiful day
            YES: Bike to work
        Its a crappy day
            YES: Bring a jacket

Unfortunately, that logic fails to account for beautiful days that turn rainy and crappy while I'm at work—only in Los Angeles. Caught in this unfortunate situation yesterday, logic failed me; I made a bad decision to bike home in the rain, on streets that haven't seen rain in months. "Oops."

The streets were mud. Angelenos were feeling forsaken, and manifesting a collective road rage directed toward heaven, earth, and all faster-moving objects.

It wasn't a car that got me... it was moisture on a newly constructed road. When I pitched over my handlebars and hit the 'crete I wasn't anywhere near traffic. I was in the construction zone on Santa Monica Boulevard, on one of the serpentine bypass roads that appear and disappear daily. Having ducked and dodged far greater hazards thusfar, I was caught completely by surprise when my bike just slipped out from underneath me on what appeared to be a smooth stretch of road.

I was wearing a helmet, and I rolled out of the fall pretty well. I could definitely feel pain in my wrist, though. Put a good dent in my Powerbook, but it seems happy enough.

I had no choice; I rode the rest of the way to my parents house, sluiced the mud off my face, drank some fine Scotch, and iced my wrist. An hour later, my dad had convinced me I had broken it. He regaled me with a laundry list of ways in which bones can break.

And then I went to the emergency room and got an x-ray. Great fun. I got souveniers!

Prognosis: My wrist is NOT broken; I have full motion. I have a splint on my hand, but only to remind me of what a dumbass I am. I will henchforth still be unable to play the violin. My neck is fucking killing me today, and every muscle in my body is screaming at me. But I blame that on too many backflips.