It is hard to believe it is Friday already.
The weeks seem to be passing by much more quickly than they used to. That can only mean one of two things.
- I am getting older.
- I am somehow having fun without realizing it.
I am pretty sure possibility #1 is happening right before my eyes.
I am a little skeptical about possibility #2.
So, I have no choice but to believe that I have chosen door #1 and it was followed almost instantly with the wah-wah-wah-wahhhhhhh sound that always accompanied the winning of a donkey pulling a donkey cart full of factory-seconds 1st-generation EpiLadys.
A Cold Day in August
Speaking of adding insult to injury …
Even though we are still deep in the heart of summer, with temperatures getting up to 100 in the shade (38 C), I have somehow managed to catch a cold.
It wasn’t easy. There are not a lot of cold germs around in the summertime and one’s immune system is in tip-top condition when the weather is warm and the air is moist. I am also getting plenty of Vitamin D from the incessant and relentless sun. So catching a cold at the moment is challenging, to say the least.
But when I awoke this morning, there were the unmistakable signs.
- A sore throat
- General achiness
- Extreme lethargy
- A feeling of hopelessness and malaise
So, I either had a cold or I had somehow managed to wake up at work in the middle of a status meeting.
However, a quick look around proved to me that I was not at work (with an accuracy of ± 4 percentage points).
So, I had the internal dialog everyone has when they wake up feeling the early stages of a cold. Should I stay in bed and call in sick to work? Or should I roust myself out of bed, take a steaming shower, down a cup of hot coffee, and go into work?
The only argument for going into work is that it is a crying shame to waste a sick day by actually being sick. I’d rather use that day for something important … like turning Labor Day weekend into a 4-day weekend instead of just a 3-day weekend.
So I went into work.
And before you get all up in arms, I am not contagious. I am not running a fever. I am not hacking and coughing or sneezing. I wash my hands obsessively. I don’t breathe on people or drink out of their coffee cups or water bottles when they’re not looking. Or even when they are.
If I become contagious, I’ll stay home.
A Feeble For Our Time
As if a cold is not effective enough at reminding us just how feeble we really are, our own bodies sometimes take it upon themselves to remind us.
Let’s face it. Our brains are cocky.
When things are going good, our brains, being the natural born connivers that they are, can convince us that we are invincible. That we are bulletproof.
But then our bodies, being the natural-born doofuses that they are, do something that the brain, for all it’s wisdom, could not have foreseen.
For instance, earlier this week while I was at work, I decided to heed the advice on the eronomic posters posted on all the bulletin boards all throughout the building. (It’s the poster right next to the one declaring what the minimum wage is now.)
The sign recommends taking periodic “ergo breaks” at work. One of the things it encourages is to do stretches at your desk.
I put my arms over my head. I lace my fingers. I lean back in my chair slightly. And I stretch.
It was a good stretch, too! The kind you do in the morning when you first get up.
And that’s when my shoulder decided that it would pop a muscle or dislocate a piece of cartilage or pop the ball out of the socket. I’m no doctor. I don’t know what the hell happened. But something happened.
And now my good arm …
… the one that can lift a 40 pound bag of bird seed …
… the one that can carry in all ten fully-loaded plastic grocery bags from the car to the kitchen …
… the one that can muscle the lawnmower single-handedly around an inconvenient tree in the yard …
… this arm is now useless.
Now I wince when I reach across the desk for my pencil.
Now I grit my teeth when pulling a small envelope of instant oatmeal out of the box.
Now I see stars when I reach for a doorknob.
Oh, I know it will heal. I know whatever popped out of place will pop back into place in another day or so.
But I hate being reminded that I am feeble.
But what I really hate is that I don’t have a cool story to go along with this shoulder injury.
I would much rather say, “This? Oh, I was going up for a jump-ball in the endzone when the quarterback threw a hail Mary in the final seconds of the game.”
Or maybe, “Oh, it’s just an old hang-gliding injury.”
Pretty much anything sounds better than, “Oh, I was stretching at my desk at work …”
Enjoy your Friday! Don’t forget to stretch.