If I had a job that required a good amount of manual labor, I guess I could whine about sore muscles from helping my brother move this weekend. Since there's no pain when I'm sitting on my butt typing, I have no room to complain. But my brother is on notice--he will be helping me move, if I don't decide to just sell all my stuff, pack up what fits in my car and just float with the breeze.
Even though I knew I would help, I didn't do a whole lot to plan ahead with my work schedule. I assumed (incorrectly) that I would be able to get it all done on Sunday. Now I'm laughing out loud. I was lucky to get out of bed before noon yesterday. I love making my own schedule, but overestimating my enthusiasm to work on the weekends is something I really need to address. There's no rest for the writer.
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