I’m sore. I’m sore that my year-old eyeglasses frames broke yesterday.  I’m sore that I didn’t get them repaired. I’m sore that I didn’t get them replaced.  I’m sore that a replacement will be an expensive proposition.  And I’m sore that there’s so much to do and only twenty-four hours in each day to get them all done.

My lower back is sore.  My wrists are sore.  My arms are sore.  And my upper legs are sore.  To borrow from Leonard Cohen (and adapt under the auspices of poetic license), I’m sore in places I used to play.  Being in the throes of age-accentuated soreness is painfully irritating.

Despite being miffed at myriad obstacles to my bliss, I’m not a sore loser. Because I did not lose the weight I felt I should have lost after putting my body through the workout involved in shoveling a vast amounts of mulch into, and then out of, the bed of a pickup. Yes, I’m sore, but I’m not a loser.  At least not in the sense…nevermind.

Today will offer up plenty more opportunities for soreness.  I will pick up the paint brush again (oh, I didn’t mention my wrists are sore from painting yesterday) to add more pizzazz to my abode and environs.  I will continue the saga of mulch moving, transferring the  mulch from beneath the tarp where it resides at this moment to the beds where it will help control weeds and add a means of retaining moisture for the newly-planted shrubs.


About John Swinburn

"Love not what you are but what you may become."― Miguel de Cervantes
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3 Responses to Sore

  1. Mosha says:

    Perhaps that soreness didn’t matter when we were young, for with youth one can feel rather invisible, and with the age we become sensitized to our aches and pains due to recognizing our mortality…at least in part.

    Good music this morning, Juan! I WOKE UP! Lol!

  2. You may be right, Juan. I was sore when I was a young man, but it didn’t matter much to me then. I recovered more quickly and the soreness did not find a place to rest, deep in my muscles and close to the bone. Today, soreness finds a resting spot and won’t go away until I deaden it with drugs or alcohol. As for my mental soreness, it’s always fresh as a kitten! And my forgetfulness? It may not be age, and perhaps I can blame it on being lazy, but it strikes with increasing frequency and is the subject of my rage more often than is healthy. Now, as for the Orbital piece…I must be completely brain-dead today, because it meant little to me. I even read the comments on the video and found myself lost. You, sir, NEED to write a blog so you can write extensive expositories on such stuff!

  3. juan says:

    I swear to God that we must be leading some Bizzaro parallel life, John.

    My prescription sunglasses broke the other day, though I was lucky that Sam’s was able to repair with a new frame at $45 dollars in less than 30 minutes.

    We are sore, though are we attentively more sore because only now we are paying attention to it? Seems to me we were always sore as young men — we just didn’t give a shit.

    If I am sore it’s because I did things beyond my limit. As an old man, stretching is important, because our muscles want to be at some restful state — that says as much of our minds than it does our muscles.

    I don’t believe in forgetfulness as a characteristic of old age; rather, as a characteristic of me going lazy. I’m not feeding my mind enough of questionable matters; I’m getting lazy and settled in my thinking. The physical applies here, as well.

    If I am sore then let me be sore for my push and pull…
    I’d rather die on treadmill than in some leather-soft chair!

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