For a guy that's retired I have had a lot of stuff on my plate since the first of the year. Finally, things have settled down. I finished my book and it is now with my editor. The HOA budget group I'm on has completed our work and we will be presenting to the board shortly. Company is done for a while and Linda is done dog sitting so she is back helping around the house.
All that means is that I finally have had a chance to get at some of the projects I've had on my to do list. I laid down some bricks in an area that was all sand where a neighborhood cat had decided it was his bathroom. Unfortunately he has found another spot on the other side of the house.
I fixed a broken sprinkler that was doing a wonderful job of watering the back roof of our house instead of the tree it should have been dripping around. I cleaned up the palm fronds and leaves that blew into our yard after the latest wind storm.
Finally, yesterday, I was able to paint the cabinets in my office. It is a small area but painting cabinet doors and drawers is slow and difficult. Especially when you are lazy and don't take them off to do it. Instead I spent the day painting around hinges, drawers, books, and assorted other stuff in my way.
I finished it all in one day, two coats, and it looks great. So what's this got to do with getting old you might be asking yourself.
Well, I played golf with my cousin about three weeks ago and yesterday was the first day since that I didn't have to get out the massager to start my day by loosening up my back. Three weeks to recover from playing golf! So what do I do, I go and paint.
About twenty minutes after finishing the last stroke of painting I could feel my back starting to knot up again. I immediately took an Aleve to help and it sorta did. Unfortunately this morning I woke up and not only is my back sore, but my hands, arms, feet, and of all things my ass are killing me.
How did I possibly hurt my ass by painting? Did I mention my neck hurts too? It feels like I just got done playing sixty minutes of football without equipment against kids in their teens. Good grief I'm sore.
There is nothing good about getting older except for the alternative which is not an option. Those of you that know me are aware that I have had gray hair since high school. Granted it was a few strands only then and I now have a head of white hair, but the good thing for me is that I've seen this picture for a while.
When I look in the mirror I am not shocked by the old face staring back at me, he's been there for a while. What I am shocked about is the fact that I can't do the things I used to be able to do without suffering for weeks afterwards.
I am not one to get nostalgic about life and change. I have never spent a lot of time wishing I had done things different or wanting to go back to another time. Although I do love seeing those old time Cubs uniforms.
They always take me back to my youth and the players I loved growing up. Banks, Santo, Williams, Jenkins, Sutter, Boccabella, and the others. Anything else in the past does not reach my brain or bring me nostalgia.
Still, I do wish that our bodies didn't abandon us as we get older. We are finally figuring out things, and starting to enjoy life, and suddenly everything is shutting down on us. It doesn't seem fair.
Today I'm going to take it easy, down an Aleve every twelve hours, and think about buying stock in the company. It looks like I'll be a regular user going forward.