brokenpurplecrayon

the stories are true. you can’t do at 30 what you could do at 20 (or at least, sometimes you shouldn’t).

last weekend, i did the dirty deed of cleaning out the back shed, sorting through the “junk” we have carried around for years, cleaning, and then putting back all the stuff to keep. it took 2 days. things were bug infested, poop infested, and overall gross and frustrating. but it needed to be done. on monday, i felt the strain of my muscles from carrying, everything in and out.

well, heavy trash day is friday. which means that all that “junk” (note: it wasn’t all technically junk – a lot of it was just stuff that had been out there so long that it became junk by right of being destroyed by time and critters) had to go out on the curb for pick up the next morning. so i moved the cars, opened the gates, plugged my ipod into my ears and went to work. an hour and a half later, a couch, and 10 wheelbarrow trips (plus a few hand carried loads) were piled neatly on the curb. people were already stopping to “shop”. long story short, they trashed the pile pretty badly throughout the night, but not so much that we got fined.

needless to say, friday, i could barely walk. i had strained so many muscles that it wasn’t even worth arguing with advil.

and then, to add insult to injury, i got a craving for potato chips last night and sweetie and i ended up eating the whole bag. seriously – the whole bag. i feel SO SICK today. i can’t believe i actually did that. i feel like i tried to be 20 again and my body just looked at me and said – “uh, NO!”.

blargh. my arteries & muscles have banded together today and they handed me my sign. “you are 31 – deal with it!”

.:{brokenpurplecrayon}:.