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Friday, December 23, 2005

Even though I have what most people would call a “desk job,” I don’t sit at my desk all day. When I’m working, I’m up and down every few seconds. And that’s probably for the best, since I don’t go out of my way to get a lot of exercise. But as lazy as I sometimes feel, I’m not a sitter. Usually.

Tonight I was a sitter. I sat in the same position in the recliner for four straight hours, from about 5 pm until about 9 pm. About 5:00 this afternoon, I hit some kind of wall. My legs suddenly felt as if they were blocked in cement, and my stomach felt as if it had a wad of stale, flavorless chewing gum lodged somewhere inside. And I was freezing, which is odd since the outside temperature never got below 60ºF today. But the chill in my back and legs made me want to do nothing more than bundle up and not move. So I sat.

I didn’t intend to sit that long, but I couldn’t convince myself to get up out of the chair. Besides, I had XM15 The Loft playing, and I find the music that satellite channel plays to be at once soothing and intriguing. It’s become my favorite station, but I’ve never just sat and listened to it for four hours at a stretch. Not until tonight.

Of course I know what the problem is. I haven’t had anything close to a good night’s sleep in so long that my body is rebelling. It’s shutting down. It’s pushing me into a wall so that I have no choice but to sit for a long time, hunched under my afghan, dozing occasionally. That was my evening. I wasn’t hungry enough to eat anything, and I had a glass of water that I made last that long.




23 December 2005

Looming darkness.



I can’t be sick, of course. And I’m not sick, just tired. By tomorrow, when we gather for the first of our Christmas celebrations (we can’t all be together all day Sunday, so we have to compromise), I’ll be fine. I have to be fine. I have to feel a whole lot better than I did today.




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I hesitate to complain, since I know people who live their lives, every day all year long, in constant pain. And I’m not really complaining, just reporting the state of the imopm. (Sorry. Drifted off again.)

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"It must be that jolly seasonal spirit burgeoning in my heart. Or maybe I’m just too tired to give a flying sugar plum."


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