Fatigue Coefficient: Infinity to the power of (sometimes plus usually plus always)

I’ve often said that I can clean house or go to work but not the same day.  (Substitute any ADL for either effort in that sentence.)  As a corollary, I can expend X amount of energy times Y days after which, I will be wholly unable to expend any until I recharge.

For me, X amount of energy involves the extent to which I decide to simultaneously expend energy and endure pain.  So let’s say Z = Y x X, where Z = 0, Y equals the number of days, and X = energy plus pain.  Oh wait.  Didn’t I flunk college math?  Three times?  Including remedial? To the disgust of the grad student instructor, who shook his head and dropped the chalk on the floor when I asked what a logarithm was, and found his answer (“the solution to this formula”) unsatisfactory?  Yup.  So, *end math metaphor*

Suffice it to say that after two eight-hour days of standing with a smile on my face in a tiny house village handing out literature and answering questions, I can almost but not quite walk today.  I stayed home from the third scheduled day with the blessings of the others attending the event on behalf of the tiny house manufacturer for whom my tiny house community shows a model.  I chugged water all night interspersed with too much Acetaminophen.  I stayed in bed an hour beyond my normal time of awakening.  I stumbled through making coffee, attending to my personal needs, scrambling eggs, and reading social media.  It’s ten-thirty.  I’ve accomplished little and nothing of which to brag other than the first step, i.e., hauling my butt out of bed.

But I’m not moaning, despite the searing pain in my right hip, the intermittent cramping of my calves, and the wildly increased tightness of the diagonal nerve from my left shoulder to the base of my spine, the nerve where my shingles lie dormant.  In the immortal words of the late, great, Honorable Leonard J. Hughes, Sr., “Ladies and gentlemen, I woke up this morning, which is more than a lot of people can say.  So let’s get this show on the road.”

It’s the last day of the fifty-seventh month of My Year Without Complaining.  Life continues.

 

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