House of Pain

I've always contended that, since turning 30 some years ago, I can't quickly remember how old I am. I mean, if someone ever asks me, I really have to take a minute and do the math.

Okay.... I was born in this year. And now it's this year. But it's not yet May, so.... I must be this old.

Still, regardless of this lack of at-the-ready information, I'm reasonably confident that I'm not 90- years old.

However, if I listened to my body, I'd say that's exactly how old I am.

Meaning? I'm sore. All sore. All the time. Not good. Sad, really.

I know my lower back has bothered me since Sweetie was an infant. But, honestly, I thought it only hurt when I first stood up after sitting for a long time. Or after standing for a long time. Or walking for a long time.

But, no. I hurt. All over. And I suppose it's been for a long time now.

See, those dang kids got me all thinkin' and stuff. Made me wonder what they'd ask and prepare answers ahead of time.

Does spina bifida hurt? Oh, no! Just a little sore from working my muscles so much to get me moving.

Hmmm... what's that tweak? Ooooh... what's that crack? Ouch!... now that hurts!

Yup - I suppose spina bifida does hurt after all. In a round about sort of way. For me, anyway.

Ya know what else I've noticed recently? My joints are all cracky. Like, if I adjust my posture while seated, I hear the bones in my back crack. If I twist or turn or stand up too quick - I hear more cracking.

By cracky, I think I'm old! And in pain!

Also - I'm not so much the fan of climbing stairs anymore. They used to be so not-a-big-deal to me at all. Buying a 2 story house wasn't any sort of concern for me at the time we bought it. Stairs?! No problem! Bring 'em on!

But now? Not so much. Some people don't do windows. Me? I don't do stairs. Not if I can help it, anyway. I mean, that's what I've got a Sweetie for, right?

Sweetie, could you ever fetch me my book from my bedroom nightstand? Would you please take this small pile of clothes up to your room? Could you please take the vacuum upstairs for me? And vacuum too?

(Oops. Sorry. Those last two were meant for Hubby. He's pretty helpful that way too).

And so, with all these aches and pains settling into my still-pretty-dang-young-after-all-thank-you-very-much body, it looks like we 3 will be fixin' to pack up and move out. Well, within a long-term 5-year plan, anyway. Not quite yet. But certainly not staying here forever. Nope, cannot do it.

After all, we bought this big ol' New Englander with our eyes set on having a couple of kids. But, thanks to what I was recovering from exactly 1 year ago today, that dream is over. "We 3" are "we 3" for good. And we don't need all this extra room.

So - on to finishing projects already started! On to making the place "good enough" to appeal to a buyer! And here's to not going all-out to make this house the end-all/be-all dream home we wish to grow old in.

Cause, baby?... I'm already feeling old, achy and crabby. And this house just isn't making me feel any younger.