mid-week middling malaise

11 Apr

Sometimes, I think, the recovery is worse than the actual illness.

I am, by most measures, in way better shape today than I have been at point since my early twenties. Hell, my waist size is smaller than it was when I graduated college. The couple of chronic health issues I won in the genetic lottery are being successfully managed. I seem to have aged out of the weird skin/scalp thing I used to have. I am, by some measures*, dead sexy.

All that said (even if I’m gonna have to add the TMI tag to this one because of the previous paragraph), this bout of influenza that put me on the DL last week has knocked me on my ass.

I’m hoping I get six good hours today before the exhaustion/drudge sets in. I got four on Monday, maybe five on Tuesday. If that pattern doesn’t start degrading, by the end of the week, I won’t leave the office feeling ready to collapse, and find myself doing exactly that once I get home. Every day this week so far as involved some form of afternoon nap. I have, so far, managed to take my pants of first. Yeah.

I guess it’s because I’m on the cusp of, if not actually hitting and past, “middle age”. Since I hit 40, it takes me longer to bounce back from everything. That stupid shoulder sprain I got back in July falling off the bike to dodge a trail deer still twitches about once a week (though to be fair, it’s not the first time I’ve injured that shoulder). Getting old, my friends, sucks.

So, yeah. Feels like I should have a clever wrap-up for this one. It doesn’t feel in the cards. The weight feels like it’s settling a bit early today – best I can hope for is that my predicted six good hours today will be non-contiguous and a second wind will kick in eventually.

At least that damned check that the siding company lost the first time cleared overnight. Feel like I’m gonna have to coast on that small victory for a while.

Happy Wednesday.


*-those measures being, the small community of groupies I apparently have in the NC research triangle, and the hope that my youthful local female bandmates’ near-constant chatter about my “bike shorts” isn’t actually facetious. I live in hope.


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