I'm often reminded of my mortality, the fact that I'm getting older, and the fact that I've probably already taken a few years off of my life by having drunk excessively (to which I've slowed down so much that turtles run laps around me- I only have one or two drinks and even then someone has to offer me a drink first), done drugs (I haven't done shit like meth or coke in many years), and- more recently- gone days without sleeping. On that last part: my dubious record (or personal "best") is 48 hours and maybe 30 minutes. Or however long it took from when the Uber picked me up at work, dropped me off at home, and I brushed my teeth and got into bed and then fell asleep.
That being said, I've noticed more lately how fragile time makes my body.
When I bump against something, I feel it much more now. This is especially true at work, where the temperature is often freezing. Literally. 0°C, -5°C, -26°C.
When I hit something, it fucking hurts for many minutes. God forbid I should hit the tip of my thumb (that I cut deep enough to get stitches) because that will hurt like hell for longer than I care to think about. I can't stand the cold like I used to either, the tips of my fingers will be stiff and render me weaker. I have to stop and shake my hands or try to make fists repeatedly to get some blood flowing, or leave the cold room altogether to recuperate.
It was never like this. I could often not wear a jacket or sweater and I'd be fine but now I have to wear a jacket even when it's hot outside.
Fuck, man.
Getting old sucks.
