Confession time.

As a young, immortal, and indestructible Marine, I did not take the best possible care of this container known as my body. Heck, I truly did not expect to live this long. I was on a self-destructive bent that I could not see, and in my myopic view of my lifespan, feeling the effects of my actions some twenty plus years later was not in the game plan.

California had some Global Warming yesterday – enough to shut down I-5 north of LA, which doesn’t happen too often – and the storm front, much diminished, is moving into my AO today. Actually, it started moving in last night, around 2300 hours, and that’s where my confession comes into play.

Yes, I know, medically speaking, no one can “predict” “rain” or “weather” through “feelings” in their “joints” and “bones”. The problem with the study is that the ones conducting the study are young and not feeling the effect of their actions. Yet.

About 2300 last night, I could not get comfortable. I knew that a weather change was coming because I woke up and could not get back asleep. I tossed and turned and tossed again, looking for the position that would allow my neck to relax and my back to not creak and my legs to not cramp and my arms to not numb. Could not find that position for all the tossing and turning in the world.

Add a sinus infection on top of that, and you can well imagine how chipper I feel today.

Yesterday I felt pretty good – to the point that I rearranged the “office” to the specifications of TMBWitW, taking into consideration the possibility of finally, actually, beginning to start the planning of the planning phase of my model railroad. I have several elements to be worked into the final plan, among which are a curved trestle and a three stall roundhouse/seven slot turntable section salvaged from previous layouts. The room that is now the office-slash-storage area was originally planned for the railroad, but life, five cats, and a new daughter have a habit of changing your plans for you. (by the way, one of the cats is down by one life after knocking a brass locomotive to the floor. the train room will be way off limits for the cats…) The final plan will not take up the entire room, as once envisioned, but will be a yard and spur, with lots of operation possibilities.

Well, that’s about all I can handle right now. The arthritis that I am not getting and the dyslexia that likes to rear it’s ugly head are combining forces to make typing darn near impractical right now. Hope you all had a good weekend.

Chat ya later…

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