Sometimes you feel like a nut

September 23, 2008 at 6:36 am Leave a comment

You know that candy bar commercial?  The one that says, “Sometimes you feel like a nut.  Sometimes you don’t.” 

Well, I have my own version… “Sometimes you feel like a 3-ton Mac truck ran over you.  Sometimes you don’t.”  Yesterday, the truck hit me. 

It probably started with our annual trek to the Oklahoma State Fair on Saturday.  Walking around there for hours made my feet hurt.  And my calves.  Any my back.  Then we stopped at a furniture store to pick up a sofa I’d ordered a month ago…which meant that on Sunday, husband and I had to unload the new sofa and carry it into the house.

Before THAT, of course, we had to move the existing sofa into my office (which is really just a small spare bedroom without bedroom furniture).  Moving the old 93″ overstuffed sofa meant tilting it up and removing the legs and cushions, maneuvering it through a door and into a small hallway, getting it halfway into the new room and standing the sofa on edge, then turning it a half-turn so that the back was against the wall, before finally setting it down.  (I’ll save the sofa’s “broken leg” story for another day…)  After all that, hauling in and positioning the new, much lighter weight sofa seemed like a piece of cake. 

But I didn’t like the way the new “old” sofa looked in my office, so I had to move some of my office furniture a bit.  Nothing major…just move this loaded bookcase a few inches one way, shove the heavy desk half a foot another way…change the PC and all the peripherals at the same time because—well, the room was a shambles anyway, so why not?  🙄

To top it all off, my “monthly cycle” rolled around yet again.  *sigh*  Guess Mother Nature isn’t through torturing me just yet.

Bottom line?  Yesterday, every bone and muscle in my body hurt.  My back, my neck, my head, my arms, my hands, my hips, my legs, my feet, my privates. 

So yes, I felt like a 3-ton Mac truck ran over me…and then the driver backed up and ran over me a couple more times for good measure.  Wait ’til I get my hands on that guy.  Well, wait ’til my hands heal up enough so that I have some grip.  I’ll ring his scrawny little neck.

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Entry filed under: Aging gracefully.

Not fair fair My two cents

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