worn out

Sometimes I feel old. This is one of those times.

When I was young, "old" had a particular meaning; a set of attitudes. Attitudes vary from person to person and generation to generation. My view was naive.

I no longer think of "old" in those terms. Nope. Now "old" is in the more physical aspects of worn.

I'm feeling worn out. I'm an old piece of equipment that still functions but must be treated tenderly. Daily preventive maintenance is necessary where it once wasn't. My duty cycle is changing, too. More down time is required.

I'm not tired (although I did not sleep well last night); I'm just acutely aware that I am not nearly as capable as I once was.

Today I feel worn out.

Oh Fuck

This afternoon, I took my laundry basket with clean clothes upstairs and dumped them on the bed. I separated the clothes and folded the tee shirts. I got hangers for my shirts and pants and tossed them on the bed.

Before starting in again, I stood there talking to Stacey. I just stood there. I wasn't doing anything in particular. In one moment all was normal. In the next, I'm on my knees with my body across the bed in searing pain.

Some muscle in my lower back has cramped. It's one of the deep ones that doesn't respond to external massage.

From that initial position to flat on my back on the floor took around 3 minutes. After lying there for as long as I could stand it, I got up. That took longer. A lot longer.

I'm pretty sure I'm going to be quite useless for two or three days.

And tonight I managed to shatter a glass refrigerator shelf on our stone floor.

This has not been a good day.