WHINE, WHINE, WHINE

        For some reason, I think I should try to be bright and cheerful in my posts. I feel as though no one would want to read about how I’m actually feeling deep down inside when it comes to some days. It isn’t purty. In fact, unless you know me well, it could be scary.

          You see, almost every single morning when I wake up, I hurt. And, okay, I’m 74, so it’s probably not a surprise to find out that I have aches and pains. Somehow, I didn’t picture my golden years as being painful years. But I really hate getting out of bed with my back aching, both shoulders hurting, my fingers numb and tingling and whatever else throughout my body that doesn’t feel well. Some days I feel as if I could quite possibly just stay there forever.

          Still, I get up so the doggies can go out, so I guess it’s a good thing I got and kept them. I have my coffee, and send the dogs out again, drink my green smoothie, and begin my physical therapy. I do this five days a week, Monday through Friday (most of the time). When the physical therapy is finished, I feed the dogs, let the chicken out of her house, have another cup of coffee and get ready to go for my hour walk with the neighbor.

          On the weekends, I do everything I do on weekdays except for the physical therapy and walking. I hang around in my bathrobe and nightie on the couch. The doggies join me and Karma lays on my chest and Kaizer on my legs. We sort of doze the morning away. I really like doing that and not really moving until it’s almost noon.

          The fact of the matter is I’d like every single day to be a weekend day. I’d like to stop the physical therapy and the walk. It doesn’t really seem to matter when it comes to my aches and pains whether I walk or do my PT. And, okay, maybe my body would even further resent my lack of exercise and increase the pain payments. Maybe I’d get to the point I wouldn’t want to get out of bed. You know, some days that sounds like the best idea available.

          My grandma and mom didn’t exercise. They didn’t walk very far or very much. Grandma used snuff and mom smoked Lucky Strike straights (gag). They both lived to be about 79…that gives me another five years if I follow in their footsteps. They both spent their time watching television and not doing much else. There wasn’t the huge variety of choices there are now, so you know television had to be really bad. I’m sure I could while away entire days, weeks and months just watching what’s available on Netflix and Amazon Prime.

          They both had little gardens outside their apartments, but it was fairly shady, so their plant choices were limited. I don’t have a little garden, but an entire yard filled with lots of plants. And, if that’s not enough, I’m vegetable gardening in pots in the driveway.

          And, what’s with all the weeds. I swear they must replicate in a matter of hours. I’ve already been through the one big area around my deck once. Now, I ‘ve done that area twice which included cutting my dahlias back so they’ll branch out more. I’ve managed to do the beds against the north and south fences, but I haven’t touched the east bed. My goal is to get to the east bed tomorrow before Haley comes to sort more crap in the garage.

          Actually, I don’t really know why I’m being such a complainer today. Once I’ve done the PT and walked, I feel pretty good. Then, if I spend a few hours toiling away at the weeds, I feel even better. I’m making progress in the garage and that feels good as well. I think before I write another post, I need to do a table that lists, “good things” and “bad things.” I’ll bet the good would outweigh the bad, especially since the bad only lasts for a couple of hours each morning.