I went to my local watch-and-optician shop today to get a new battery for my heart rate monitor, but they were on holiday for a week, so I went next door and bought a battery and a set of small screwdrivers instead, resolving to do the job myself. After all, it’s just four small screws on the back of the unit that I needed to remove, before replacing the battery. Or rather, three small screws that I could easily remove, and a fourth where I stripped the head of the screw pretty much as soon as I touched it with the end of the screwdriver, leaving me with a useless piece of electronics that I’ll have to put in the recycling as soon as I admit defeat. Or find another helpful person with a very small vice and greater dexterity and luck than me, to get the screw out. (It turns out from searching the internet that I’m not alone (or not the only cackhanded person) – plenty of people have managed to shear off the little screw while trying to fix the battery. I suppose I should feel lucky that I managed to get at least one battery replacement on the thing. All part of the rich Garmin experience of everything falling to pieces.
The rest of the day was pretty uneventful. For some strange reason I’d forgotten to eat any breakfast this morning, and I’d tried to compensate by drinking three coffees while interviewing somebody for a job. I wonder if they took anything away from this apart from the possibility of working with a maniac who kept dabbing frothed milk from his moustache. (Speaking of which, I made the semi-disastrous discovery* that frothed milk really does taste better the more expensive the milk is.)
I’m on gardening leave right now, which means I still go to meetings via Hangout, but I don’t get to go to the office or engage in many big projects right now, apart from locating my successor and trying to be useful. Unfortunately, my wife thinks that gardening leave means I do nothing for a month (which means I can focus on my family, which is nice) but it doesn’t seem to be quite that, because half my day is still full of meetings. Oh, for a life of indolence. Or at just a few weeks lying on the sofa while somebody else peels grapes and feeds them to me. Is that too much to ask?
This evening, after putting the kids to bed (surprisingly quickly, as it happens) we watched another motorcycle race, then I went for a 50 minute run. After yesterday’s horrorshow I thought my legs would be in agony, but I’ve been rubbing them assiduously with a Stick, and although today was a hilly run, it wasn’t the kind of leg-battering beast that MacRitchie is – so in fact I had a fairly pleasant time running up and down hills. Strava has a nice function where it displays your grade-adjusted pace, so that all the times that I was having to slog up hills and run slower than hoped, I can have interpreted for the flatland equivalent. So I don’t feel that 9km in 50 minutes is as slow as it really was. Ah, self-delusion is a wonderful thing.
Oh, and we got a copy of Exploding Kittens through the mail, quite unexpectedly. So that will be a fun weekend.
* For my bank balance.