It is December 7 at 4:30AM. I’m through security, sitting at gate number 4 at the Little Rock Airport. Outside there is snow AND ice on the ground. And if that weren’t bad enough, I just discovered I am old and disintegrating. Surprise! That’s what I get for sitting on my butt for two years I guess.
Anyone who has been in Little Rock Airport knows it isn’t very big. Gate 4 is just a little way from the security gate so I haven’t actually carried my bag far but already I am thinking of what I can do without. This thinking is induced by pain. My back hurts. My shoulder hurts. My arm hurts. I’m just a mess. What I really need right now is a big cup of latte and a couple of ibuprofen. Don’t have either.
Well, I wanted a change. I got it. I hope I survive to get to Xela. That is where I had intended to “get back into shape.” That wasn’t supposed to be on the agenda for at least a month. By then I’ll probably be carrying everything I own in one pocket.