Officially Old

I'm officially old.

I leapt into action today, figuring I was going to get a lot done. My “lair” is an ungodly mess, but I figured it could wait. Instead I went into the attic. The boys who helped me move in basically put things wherever they could in the attic, so there was no rhyme or reason to it. It looked like they just shoved things through the door. In order to fit all of my stuff in this house, I have to get that straightened out.

So ... off I went into the attic. I got a lot done, dammit. I moved a bunch of boxes out of the attic (why do I have so many books again?) into Michelle's old room. Then I cleaned up the attic and arranged it so that I can create some sort of organizational structure up there. Maybe the things I want to keep in the center, and the things I want to sell in front (there's a lot of stuff I can sell).

I ran out of steam eventually. I am an old man, after all. Or I feel like one now, anyway. Geez. I have pains in places I didn't know I had places. Who would have thought that after sitting on my ass behind the wheel of a truck for eight years that I wouldn't be able to just sallie forth and have at a bunch of physical work without feeling like I'd been worked over by a bunch of bikers?

Well, it hurts to write. So I'm stopping. It shouldn't hurt to write, should it?

Hopefully tomorrow I'll feel up to putting those boxes back into the attic. I do so hate stopping in the middle of something. But there's only so much an old fart like me can get done in one day.