Sorry Texas, I am Your Tennessee Tornado

These days come off so repetitive. It seems like there is one big thing that happens each day along with a bunch of maintenance items: write a post, wash the dishes, wash the dishes, wash the dishes, make food, make food, make food. Day-after-day, week-after-week, month-after-month. Time passes.

I look and I wonder whatever became of time. This is how you approach 45. The lunch table kids tell us what to wear, what to listen to along the way. They're replaced by cooler kids. But, it is all the same nonsense.

My body's repair crew joined a union. I do not bounce back with the same gusto as I did at 17 on that wrestling mat. Still further, long ago were the days when kids held up the ball carrier just so that I could plow them all over onto the ground.

The ol' left glutes have been sore for a couple of days now. It felt like the after effects of a good workout, that same, day-after feeling. But, I haven't done jack! (And to isolate one side for a workout just gives me giggles.) No, the other day, my body just reacted on autopilot and hurled a 11x7 IKEA serving dish as if I was launching an Aerobie in a kickoff in ultimate frisbee. Yeah, my body hurled that sucker against the WALL from across the kitchen! And lemme tell ya, IKEA leads you to believe they do things in a cheap but smart way, but that dish did NOT have safety glass! Shards everywhere!

Why did I do that? I have no idea, because "I" did not do it. Generally in that scenario, I do the tuck item and roll—OK, OK, I need to explain the setup. I went to grab the dish from the cabinet. I turned and realized my sandal was caught by my other foot. My center of gravity saw a squirrel out the window and off I went; I was in an uncontrolled fall.

I like to think for a bit when I tumble, like I did in 2021 with my elbow (which I nearly recovered from the nosedive and purposely leaped forward thinking I might rally). This time, nothing was sent my way to mull over. My arm holding the dish decided to swing forward and whirl behind me to protect the fall and release that dish like a banshee. And when I fell and bruised that glute, I hit that same darn elbow from 2021 AND...broke skin from the impact on the FRONT of my left knee. So, in one unassisted action, I simultaneously bruised the front and back of my body in one whirling motion. While frying up some bacon.

I got the moves
That really move them
I send chills
Up and down their spine
I'm just a sexy boy (sexy boy)

-Jimmy Hart & JJ Maguire

"Hey, shouldn't I ought to get extra credit for rolling into the fall with my hip?" I ponder. "Nope, but you did come away with a participation trophy. Congrats."

"The Same Thing We Do Every Night, Pinky. Try to Take Over the World."

I am ever reminded of the necessity of a physical regimen. I love planning, I do. Hey, it is an earmark of every INTJ out there—plans and contingency planning! It is ever so delightful. But, these days—well, it is basic economics: unlimited wants in the backdrop of scarcity. This is why in one avenue, I have applied to Harbor Freight. I can bring more of the same value at a lower price point. If I went with all DeWalt, I would lose out on greater value as it relates to my endgame performance.

With this mindset of resource scarcity, whether it is time, talent or treasure, I turn my focus onto training. It is the sort of thing that we cannot only say, "In two weeks, I am going to rock it like the Energizer bunny." Sure, I live in what on the surface looks like a hoarder's cardboard dream. But, I gotta do something today. I do not want to risk injury leading up to the move, but I want to ramp up my activity for the move AND what lies ahead. Critically interwoven into those plans, contrasting our prior pool inspection that was our stiff canary for that house purchase, we have a green light; all things are go.