I am by accident, someone who rarely does something so stupid as to virtually incapacitate himself. Not that I'm a great athlete or anything, but I know my limits, and, generally within those limits I'm a solid little fireplug.
Then, every once-in-a-while, my age feels like it catches up to me. I'm closing in on the Nixon speed limit in the next few months, but most of the time I still feel like I'm thirty-two. Albeit, a very old thirty-two. Spring has begun to show itself and that means work outside. Work outside involves tools. I love tools. Tools make the man for me, not clothes, although My Beloved has made me a better dresser over the years. But, I digress.
The first day in the yard, under a bright sun and fair winds, I picked up the thatching rake and had at it. Unfortunately for me, three hours later and I could barely stand up. For the rest of the day I was bent over like an eighty year old man who had cramps! It didn't stop there. For the next five days, my back screamed and yelled at me in everything I did. I couldn't get into my car without lifting my leg with my hands. One morning, I literally rolled out of bed letting my knees hit the floor so I could stand up. Two days later, I had to have My Beloved put my socks on because I couldn't bend over far enough.
Several years ago, I told my son he wasn't allowed to ever let me wear velcro shoes. I figured if I couldn't bend over to tie my shoes, game over. Hmmm, perhaps I might need to revisit those words.
It's a humbling experience for someone who has never had health issues to discover he can't tie his own shoes. That hasn't happened since kindergarten. I'm thinking a nice pair of loafers are looking mighty fine right now.