Yesterday I was feeling my age. My joints were aching and I was sluggish. It didn’t occur to me to think I was coming down with anything, because I felt great. Other than the aches and whatnot, that is. So I thought walking might help. Dork that I am, I set off on an 8-mile journey, not considering something shorter. Know what happened? That’s right. I only made it a few miles before my body rebelled and said no mas. So I headed back home.
And then Mister sent me a link to a story about an old gal who’s traveling the States instead of undergoing typical treatments for cancer. Digging into that story led me to a piece about Dr.Bill Thomas and the remarkable work he’s doing for and with the aged. Reading about Miss Norma and Dr. Thomas lifted my spirits quite a bit.
And then I started working on some promo for an upcoming event with author Mollie Gregory. And the simple act of cobbling together words on a page – words about this woman’s fabulous work – brought a smile to my face. And I felt a bit lighter.
And then I got a few emails from friends and they were all reflecting on Joy. Before I knew it, I was on my feet, nearly in a jig.
And then I resumed work on the fireplace wall. (This got put on the back burner while I tended other duties.) I was doing a bit of sanding and knocking-down of the texture, getting it ready for priming. I forgot to wear a mask, but I still had a great time and I found myself thinking this little project might turn out okay.
And then I forgot about my aching joints. And I forgot I had been feeling low. And I forgot to judge myself for not walking as far as I’d hoped. And I forgot to be tired. And I forgot I’d gotten a tetanus shot the day before and that I was probably having a reaction to the chemicals (aches and such).
And then I truly felt my age. And I was happy. The end.