The Healing Powers of Stir Fry

I’m old.

I used to be able to stay up till 3 am each night and get up the following morning at a decent hour.
I used to be able to spend the day at an amusement park and go out dancing that same night.
I used to be able to carry a bag of laundry home to parent’s house without injury.

I usually make it home to my Father or Mother’s house in Poughkeepsie each month. I ride the metro north with a great big sack of about a month’s laundry. This seems more logical: dragging an enormous sack miles away rather than down the block. This weekend was no different; me, the laundry and the train arrived in Poughkeepsie without incident and would appear to return without incident. I was wrong. I woke up early this morning with the worst neck pain I’ve ever experienced in my life. I couldn’t move my head to either side, making it near impossible to get to the kitchen where the relief could only be found in a large bottle of pain killers and a warm compress. I popped three pills and tried to get back to sleep. I suppose I did because I don’t think I was really climbing a mountain yoked about the neck and shoulders with stacks of hay while a pointy nosed wizard yelled and shot at me from his wand. When I woke up the second time I was in just as much pain as before. I can truly understand the saying: “Such a pain in the neck.” And…getting old, is such a pain in the neck.