To stop this pity party in it’s tracks, let me tell you what I have actually done this weekend, because I got to say that aside from the obvious unpleasantries — a smattering of bruises on my every appendage, the inability to put my hair in a ponytail or even put socks on without help, embarrassment of having my husband cut up my food for me in a restaurant and no wine (!) because it mixes disastrously with Advil in me — it’s been pretty sweet.

Saturday started with one of the great one-hand-able foods of New York: the Murray’s whole wheat everything bagel. Murray’s is one of but six places left in the city that still make bagels the old-school way: by hand, with malt and always boiled. Just don’t ask them to toast them, because they’re almost always right out of the oven. I’ve got a near-constant hankering for their low-fat scallion cream cheese, but I’ve, you know, heard from other people that their strawberry cream cheese? Tastes like danish and is mildly addictive.

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