We are an adaptive species, are we not? At least, some of us are. Some of us turn minor irritations, if they last long enough, into accepted and mostly forgotten parts of everyday existence. (Others, as we all know, turn every single minor annoyance into high drama. But they lose me when they try to make it my problem, too.)
This past summer, for example, I thought I was going to set up a wireless network in my house. I bought all the equipment and followed all the instructions but couldnít get the router installed. So I decided I could live, for now, without wireless. Thatís how it is. I donít complain, except to myself (or here, which is like talking to myself only with a few close friends within earshot).
Thatís how Iíve turned this bruised rib (or whatever it is) into a Big Nothing. It doesnít hurt badly enough to keep me from doing anything (although I would prefer not sneezing or coughing ever again). Iím not worried about it because I know exactly when it started, and there was no pain of any kind before that time. Iím so sure the doctor would only make it worse that Iím just living with it, as an acceptable nuisance but part of the whole picture created by the aging process.
So, yeah. I havenít quite recovered from whatever I did to myself a week and a half ago, but it isnít a big deal. Some days it doesnít hurt at all, and Iím just hoping there will be more and more of those days. But if not, I can live with that, too.