OK, I’ve sat, drank coffee, and poked around the societal and moral train wrecks that are NSFW Reddit pages long enough; it’s time to get to the gym before the students wake up, and the lunch break, New Year’s resolution hordes descend upon my go-to machines.
I would love to post some year-end 2019 love fest, and how I’m looking forward to 2020. Since I lack any ambition to do that, I will just say that I am glad to see the ass-end of 2019.
One of the worst things about my brain—and there are many—is that I don’t see the future. That’s not some suicide watch bullshit, that is just me saying that beyond the vision of my son graduating high school and moving on to college in a few years, I see nothing other than what is on my calendar next week.
Something I’ve slowly learned over the years (AKA got old and fat) is that not every bike ride, hike, ski, snowshoe, etc., needs to be an epic affair filled with big miles, sore muscles, and bonks. Sometimes, just putzing around the woods with my camera is enough to give the brain the mental “rub and a tug” it needs.
Most of the past week was spent in the gym lifting heavy things for no reason, in the dentist chair having my mouth torn apart, or in various doctor’s offices having my brain shrunk or now mended ankle looked at.
The past summer has been rough for a multitude of reasons. Most of that painful miserableness has been documented here in recent posts. So, let’s move on, finally.
I’m starting to sound like a broken record, or a corrupt file for you youngsters, but I find myself —yet again—playing shit show catchup.
My excuses are longer than a porn star’s manhood. My slack is stronger than a pre-castrated bull. And my waistline’s girth and body weight are that of a Mart-Cart fatty with a basket full of Ding Dongs and Mountain Dew.
This week is all over the place, and I feel like I have no idea what day it is. I feel like the weekend just happened and today is Monday. But it’s not. At least I don’t think it is.
