It’s a Friday evening, it’s 8:12pm and I’m in bed.
I’m not sick: I’m just exhausted. This week has kicked my behind.
I lost. It won. It was a decisive victory.
A flare-up in my knee has dragged my recovery a couple of weeks backwards, and the associated time and effort to go and see the surgeon again, get another cortisone injection, get myself to another two physio sessions while feeling inflamed and sleep-deprived – on top of planning for the next two big projects at work – has finished me off.
If I sound a bit down and a bit sorry for myself, it’s because I am. But things will be better tomorrow (when you will be reading this). A good night’s sleep. The improvements that have come from those medical interventions this week. Scant plans that involve fun and exploration, while leaving time for watching some sport and enjoying some family time.
Not overdoing it. That’s important.
That’s why I’m in bed at 8:12pm on a Friday evening.