Aging is hard work!
I had a nasty realization this morning: I’ve become high maintenance.
And it appears to all be related to aging.
Once upon a time, I used to be able to spring out of bed, wash my face and comb my hair, and be ready to greet the day. Every other day, add a shower and hair wash, and I was good to go — the hair could air-dry on the way to work, and all was good. I was clean, presentable, and alert.
This routine is in vivid contrast to my current retiree’s high maintenance existence.
First of all, there’s no springing out of anywhere: arthritic joints seem to need time to unlock and start moving in the morning, and the first few steps are slow and sometimes painful. Even my balance seems to take a bit of time to wake up.
This may be true, in part, due to the challenges of sleeping. Oh, to enjoy eight hours of uninterrupted unconsciousness, without being awakened for a trip (or two) to the bathroom; to adjust the temperature; to nudge a snoring partner to roll over; or simply to ruminate on some disaster somewhere in the world that I cannot do anything to change.
Anyway, eventually, there’s no point in feigning sleep any longer, so it’s time to stagger to the mirror and consider today’s ravages. Not a pretty sight.
