The Twilight Zone
Major Wakeup Call. For the last couple of weeks, my right leg has been problematic. Enough so that I considered considering scheduling an appointment with an orthopod.
Last night I went out to dinner. We had a long leisurely drink, eat, catch up, and gossip kind evening. When it was time to leave, everyone popped up from the table—everyone except me. I struggle to my feet. and catch up. Walking is challenging. Then. The stairs in the parking garage. Every step was torture. But, I made it.
So. What am I going to do? Go see an orthopod? Not yet. I plan not to sit for more than an hour without at least standing up. I walked about 9,000 steps today. Going out to dinner again tonight. Will see how I do.
Being old is a bitch.
Almost every day I run my posting by ChatGPT or Gemini. It always comes back “better”. But it isn’t me. It’s some ghostwriter, pretending to be me.
I often wonder. Would Carlton like it here at The Asylum? Of course, he would be 90 if he were here. Would he be working in the wood shop? I have a tough time imagining a 90-something Carlton. Would he be playing pickle ball or would he still be playing tennis? Most likely the last 10 years would have driven him batshit crazy and he would be a resident of The Asylum’s locked floor.