On my list of problems -- it's a long list folks -- is I'm too flexible
Not physically flexible. I'm 56 years old. Don't exercise. And the only time my muscles get stretched is when I'm being dragged out of some classy joint.
But my unpacking has slowed to a point of not happening at all. In part because I'm working too much. And because I can get along with just a couple of pots and pans, a wardrobe of five work shirts and a mixture of multi-colored undershirts from Walmart.
I once spilled something on a shirt and I noted to the waitress if I couldn't get the stain out, I'd be out a $5 investment.
I have learned all too well to get along with little of my stuff and that needs to change.
It makes we wonder what a normal life would be like. Correct that. Will be like.
One of the first steps to getting better is admitting to a problem.
Except I'm going to wait until it cools off. I have a fan in the apartment that's struggling to keep up with the combination of 92 degrees and a fat man.
Peace unto Ukraine and peace and central air unto you my brothers and sisters.
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