My body is such a mess. Old and breaking down like this car. Every step seems like I’m on a rutted back road; breaking down with no repair facility in site.
Hip, elbow, shoulder, knee, you name it; there is pain. I’m taking trying to take these football sized pills to promote joint health. I can visualize the autopsy now. “Hey, Burt, look at this; the old geezer has the joints of a 12 year old. Wonder what killed him. Maybe it’s this boulder stuck in his throat.”
My wife is not the picture of good joint health either. I’m on line looking for a double wide walker. Something of the nature of those double strollers used for twins. We will trundle down the sidewalk side by side. I can hear her now. “God damn it, keep up!” “I’m right beside you what are you talking about?” “Well then, pick up your feet, I feel like I’m dragging a wet bale of hay!”