The Old Routine

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My boss sent me a text on Monday morning asking me about the old routine being upset.

Damn. He knows me well. He understood that I'd be a bit disoriented.

And man, am I ever.

You see, Monday morning is a shot out of bed and a quick gulp of coffee and a run around the block with my dogs before off to work.

The dogs are sad.

I got up at the usual time, of course, and my first instinct was to get out of bed.

Big mistake.

I have learned one thing off the Monday morning experience.

I can't get out of bed until I am good and iced up.

And then it all went real haywire as I watched the family go through the motions of getting out there and taking care of business.

I did this from a flat on the back position - ice doing its work.

I really missed the routine.

"Are you doing okay?" my boss asked.

"It's not going quite as quickly as I'd hoped," I responded.

"There's a surprise," he answered. "Be patient."

And yet there was rehab to handle.

There's a place reserved in hell for rehab people.

They want you to do things you don't wanna' do.

"Pick it up as high as it'll go."

"Move this."

"Move that."

Hell, man, this ain't my routine!

Someone have a prayer for patience, goddangit?

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