So, Sunday, I moved some furniture.
Today, I got sore.
I remember, when I was a little kid, getting sore later in the day when I did something. I remember sleeping through the sore part. I remember it being the next day.
This is the first time I recall getting sore the day after the day after I did something. And it scares me. I thought my parents were making this up, when they were sore two days after we did something. I don’t know why it happens this way, but it scares me, because it means I’m turning into things I never understood.
Over thirty years. Have I done anywhere near half a life’s work yet? Not even close.