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Few days ago, I bit into a granola bar and busted a tooth. Ouch. Might've been a shell in there. Felt like I bit into a rock. Knew it wasn't good from the explosive, crunching sound. A corner of my bottom-molar broke off, size of a grain of rice. Small, but feels like a cavern to my tongue, which continually probes the sharp edges. My left shoulder has also been sore the last few weeks (especially when I try to raise my arm), from carrying the bug, I speculate. Not sure, but he's starting to get heavy, and that's the arm I use, to keep my right hand free for things requiring manual dexterity. Then yesterday, while at Crescent Bay Point Park (in Laguna), I picked him up at an awkward angle (using bad mechanics, lifting him with my arms extended, while twisted at the waist) and tweaked my lower back. Felt it go *zing*. ••• today's entry continues here ••• "Ooh," I thought, "That's not good." Didn't seem too bad at the time, but I could hardly climb out of bed this morning. Climbing in-n-out of the Rad-mobile is murder. So .. busted tooth, bum shoulder and a geriatric back .. I'm falling apart at the seams. Won't even mention how my eyesight is failing (need reading glasses). I'm usually good at stress-management, but sometimes the stress on the inside has a way of working its way out, and I have several sources of stress in my life. Tho nothing that a few days at Two Bunch couldn't cure. |
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