I was out shoveling snow this morning. I don’t know why I did that; it’s supposed to snow all day and it’s predicted that we’ll get nine inches.
But it was so wet and gloppy, I figured I’d just do the pathway – for the mailman, I told myself.
And this is the thing about middle age: You keep forgetting you’re old now. You remember other mornings, cheerily shoveling snow, and it seems like a nice, brisk start to the day.
It isn’t. Not unless it’s that nice, light, fluffy snow. Not like this.
So I’ve pulled out my entire right side and everything hurts. All this, for the illusion that I’m young again. Oy.
