Tired Arms

Lord! Don’t get old. It’s bad news. Or shall I quote my mother: Elinor, getting old is no fun.
But it’s possible to fight back. I’ve started my counterattack.
A couple of weeks ago, I realized my arms felt weak; I had a hard time lifting a stack of washed dinner plates to a shelf.
I had to sit down. This was it. I was going downhill faster than I thought. So I lay down. (Or is it lie down? Yes it is.) (Just wanted to get that passive tense in there.)
Then I remembered the story of my high school friend’s sister. After her husband died, she sold her house and went into a nursing home. There was nothing wrong with her. After a couple of months of trying to get her out of bed to play bingo, etc., they released her.
She moved to another nursing home.
The story made me uneasy. That someone could do that. Choose to lie in bed.
I got up and got out my three pound weights I hadn’t touched in a month and started a workout.
No more weak muscles.

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