They sound like serious topics and they are, especially when they happen to me. I think I am genetically incapable of sitting down and relaxing without feeling guilty about it. Two days ago we had a big snow storm from which we acquired about twenty four to thirty inches of snow plus drifting. Yesterday, I went out with my shovel and snow blower and cleared paths, our parking area and several neighbors driveways also. Then the plow came by and we did it again. When I was all done for the day I discovered muscle groups in my body that I had completely forgotten about. I said to Anne today, "Anne, today I will rest and not do physical labor." She agreed that it was a good idea. So I proceeded to not do anything physical and I sat down to read.
I enjoy reading and find it relaxing and informative, except, I also feel guilty because I am indulging myself when, surely, there must be some labor to do. In the past (pre-retirement) I would set about to do my chores and work and only then would I read. This usually had the effect of bringing on a state of unconsciousness as I sat in a comfortable chair with book in hand. Now, (post retirement) I can read anytime I like, except I feel guilty. So, today, Anne wanted to go for a walk around the neighborhood in the afternoon. We did and found that pedestrians are not provided for in snow removal efforts by the Borough, so we abbreviated our walk. When we got home I noticed that the end of our alley was full of uneven snow tracks and therefore got my shovel and cleaned some of it up lest it freeze and get even worse. Then we removed some more snow from the alley opposite our garage and then went after the snow on our porch. This is the part where the pain and suffering comes in. We were just about done when I said that I thought I should stop, because, in addition to the pain already exhibiting itself in my legs, arms and shoulders, my back was now beginning to complain about the workout.
I don't think I did any long lasting damage to myself, except that if my cardiologist ever reads this, I'm in deep doo-doo. I then came in and did some reading. Tomorrow, I think I should rest, but I may have to clear a path to the street in front where the plows piled a mountain of snow. See? It's not my fault.
A note about my novel. In case I didn't mention it, or in case some of you were moving or doing other things and weren't paying attention, my daughter and granddaughter got me signed up on a site that expected members to write a 50,000 word novel during the month of November. I got to about 10,000 words and then ran out of month. I haven't abandoned it, but am thoughtfully researching some points. I figure that if I'm going to spend the time to write something that long, or longer, I should try to do a credible job of it. Unless you're very, very good, I don't think you can write the great American novel in so short a time. At least, I can't. I'm sorry, please don't ask, but I can't reveal the story line, so you'll all just have to wait and wait and maybe wait some more.
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