Creaky

It's been a trying few days, I have to admit. My neck's not been quite right which leads to headaches (but, knock wood, so far hasn't lead to immobility so at least it's not totally out), something's shifted in my screwed-up knee and it's letting me know with the occasional shooting pain juuust in case I'm not paying attention, and my shoulder hole, which had been healing nicely (and which, you'll notice, I hadn't been giving you regular updates on. You're welcome), suddenly became inflamed yesterday. That gave me a little worry, as you can imagine. I think it's ok now, though. Looks like things just got blocked up a bit is all. It's draining again now and the redness has gone down, but I'll be keeping a pretty close eye on it nonetheless.

All this has me feeling decidedly off-warranty, as you can imagine.

It also makes it a little hard to come here and blather like an idiot. All these creaks just make me feel a little too much... with the world, I guess you could say. Don't get me wrong -- I know that there are an awful lot of people out there who have it far, far worse than I ever will and (for a change) I don't mean to turn this place into a giant whingefest. I'm just in an aw, geez. Really? sort of mindset, I guess; wondering what ache the body will come up with next.

Yeah, yeah. Welcome to your forties, Dee.

The problem is, other than the aches and pains I'm not really feeling the forties thing. I don't act like I thought someone in their forties was supposed to act. If I'd dye the grey hair I probably wouldn't look like I was in my forties. I don't think like... well, wait on that one. How the hell is someone in her forties supposed to think, anyway? I must think like I'm in my forties, because I am in my forties.

Or something.




Ok, I've figured out where this line of blather is coming from. I forgot that we're heading to the one time of year when I really do feel like I'm in my forties. Yesterday I met one of our new hires for the summer season who had come in a few weeks early to start getting to know the place (not the usual practice, but good for her).

She's young.

They're always young.

I was young when I was that age and in that job.

The thing is, they're always young. Every year they're young, but every year I'm increasingly not so. It normally only bothers me for a week or so at the beginning of May, when the seasonal staff starts and we're all still getting to know each other. Oh, and when I've just newly seen the birth dates on their paperwork, of course. You were born when? 1991? How can you have been born in 1991 and be old enough to hold a job? Oh, right. 1991 was twenty years ago.

Sigh.

1991 was also the year I convocated from university...

Feeling even creakier now, thanks a bunch.

Anyway, as I was saying before I depressed myself by thinking about dates, the whole thing normally only bothers me for that first week until we get to know each other a bit, but until I get past that first week I feel about as old as I ever feel in my life.

And I'm not supposed to be feeling that way until we actually make it to May, you know. Stupid creaky me.





Ah well, I'll get over it. Probably by doing my taxes this afternoon, which WON'T MAKE ME FEEL OLD AT ALL.

Sigh.

Again.

I'm going to hobble on over to the washing machine and change loads now, ok?





Ok then.