Varied observations regarding muscles:
a) Muscles are weird. On the subway ride home today, I somehow managed to actually get a seat. Wedged in as I was, I did not realize until I stood to disembark that my entire lower back had fallen asleep. In fact, until that point I did not realize that one's lower back could fall asleep without the rest of the body following suit. As I walked home, I discovered that without sensations from my pesky skin getting in the way, I could actually feel each of the muscles of my back sliding against each other. This was particularly distressing, as I had just read Michael Marshall Smith's description of "pushing through a loose mountain of meat that moved and flexed and smothered. It was like trying to run through a sea of dismembered arms in the dark, through arms and legs that filled every inch around me and slipped and squirted as I fell forward though them." This word adequately describes the feeling of revulsion I felt at that moment: Guuh. Say it out loud and you will know what I mean.
b) Muscles are weird. When I got home, I went to pick up my laundry. (Side note: The idea of dropping off one's dirty things and picking them up later in the day, clean and folded, has to qualify as one of the Most Tremendous Concepts Ever.) As I have in recent years metamorphosed from owning a pair of jeans and a few polo t-shirts to being a ridiculous clothes horse, I ended up carrying home sixty-five pounds of laundry. This was not a very easy task, but my muscles rose to the challenge. Do you know what it was they did to help me in my time of need? They made me sneer. Every time I carry something heavy, a muscle in my face twitches, the left side of my lip curls upward, and I sneer. Utterly involuntarily. I try to control this, so I do not sneer at random passersby, but I cannot smooth my face into passivity. Perhaps you are much smarter than I and you realize why it is that sneering is supposed to help me carry things. Good for you.
In conclusion, muscles are weird.
P.S. T minus 23 hours and counting.