Dishrag

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Back in college there were days when we didn't feel like doing much because we were worn out, completely, from the night before.

"I'm like a dishrag," would be the rallying cry.

Inevitably someone would try their best to get us upright by telling us that feeling better was just a beer away.

"You'll be all right!"

When I woke on Saturday morning...

...my back was hammering at me and my legs were just plain numb.

"I feel like a dishrag," I told Melky.

And the sad part is that I don't drink anymore! I had just slept a long while and was more tired than when I went to bed.

A beer won't make me feel better either.

I thought about the six days gone by.

Four nearly all-day speaking engagements, a nagging cold, about thirty construction site visits, spinal decompression, hundreds of miles in the car, 'what's for dinner?', troubled sleep, massage, 'I can't feel my legs!', Bruce concert, endless cell phone calls, hot tub, rides in the car with the dogs, emails, 'My back is killing me!',texts and more troubled sleep.

Dishrag!

And finally Saturday!

Rest! Bio-freeze! Nap?

For the very first time...

...on Saturday...

...a crazy thought entered my brain...

JUST STAY DOWN!

That lasted about thirty seconds.

"Come on, Melk," I said. "We got work to do."

I thought back to the Bruce concert.

I had wanted to hear The Price You Pay.

In particular...my favorite lyric from that song:

...A stranger passes to put up a sign...to count the men who've fallen away...with the price you pay.

The music fades as Bruce lets that thought sink in.

Men falling away...

And then he punches you in the gut with it:

Well, girl, before the end of the day...I'm going to tear it down and blow it away!

Dishrag?

Stay down?

I don't think so.

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