It didn’t rain yesterday, but I didn’t feel like doing any weed trimming anyway. Someone did, though, because there were two guys with trimmers working in the field across my side yard fence all day long. I mean, all day long, until about 7:00 last night. That wasn’t the only reason I never got out of the house, but it was one of the reasons.

Today it did rain, but not until the middle of the afternoon. Still, that was enough to keep me from testing the nerves and muscles in my arm and trying to do more than I probably should. As it was, I changed the water bottle on the cooler this morning and then held my breath to see what the damage would be. Yes, there were twinges of pain, but no, there wasn’t a major relapse. I’m glad I was able to do it, but I thought it would be prudent to rest that arm the rest of the day.

I’d like to get the grasses and weeds cleared off the walkway that leads to my front door. I don’t want to discourage the mail carrier from bringing packages in, because I know what they do. They leave notes in the mailbox, forcing me to drive to the post office to pick them up. And I’m expecting part of Aiden’s birthday present to be delivered this week. Plus, Thursday is water delivery day, when I have to put the empty bottle out where the driver will see it. I don’t want to have to carry it all the way out to the driveway, because that would mean I’d have to carry the full one in all that way.

So I think before Thursday I’m going to find a way to use the weed trimmer and hope that the consequences aren’t more than I can handle. I need to do this, to prove something to myself. I don’t care what anyone else thinks, but I can’t look at myself and see someone who can’t take care of himself. That’s just too frightening a prospect when I project it into the next decade or two.