A Time-Out

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It doesn’t seem that I can ever satisfy the bastard in my phone who sends me a message at 9:30 at night that says:

“A brisk 3-minute walk will close your move ring for the day.”

But…I’ve been going way too hard for the last 6 months.

Up and out by 6:30 and hundreds of job sites and ladders. When I’ve been off for a day, I’ve been playing golf…

…so, I got a bit of a message on Monday morning.

From my body!

My left shoulder was aching, and my back felt like a piece of plywood that pulsates.

“Uh-oh.”

On Monday I reasoned that moving would loosen me up and that I’d be for as a fiddle on Tuesday morning.

On Tuesday, whilst climbing a 40-footer to a roof deck, I wondered, for the first time ever about the day when I can’t do it anymore.

Tuesday evening didn’t bring any relief.

On Wednesday, I gave in and scheduled a therapeutic massage, and while I instantly felt some relief…

…I was still feeling some discomfort.

I spoke to a higher up in the company and he said:

“You gotta’ listen to the alarms.”

So, a Friday time-out.

I mentioned my intention to take a day to another work pal.

“Should I get a tee time?” He asked.

“No! I gotta’ hit pause on all of it!”

The plans for the day include:

1). Eat breakfast out.

2). Play catch with Ollie.

And nothing more.

“You’re gonna’ drive me crazy being around the house all day,” Kathy said.

Probably, but the alarm bells are ringing.

And I have a Saturday hot pepper party and a Sunday tee time.

Time outs are good, and I’m definitely not closing the move ring tomorrow.

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