Where do I start? The low point, I guess, was Three AM, when I woke up, went downstairs, and sat for awhile. Then I returned to bed, slept til 9:30. Physical therapy was at 10:00 AM. I had already prepared J’s lunch. So I went to PT. It was a bear of a session but I think it accomplished a good deal. There is less pain, both in intensity and frequency.

I ate something for lunch, what I don’t remember. But there were dirty dishes I washed. I cleaned the counters in the kitchen. That needed doing.

I had planned dinner, we had one salmon fillet, (wild caught red sockeye), and some frozen shrimp. So I decided to fix both, with fresh corn and tomatoes; blue cheese dressing on the tomato. I went shopping to get what I didn’t have. I did not buy what I didn’t read or couldn’t use. (Big Victory!). Since this is our eighteenth anniversary weekend, I bought a chocolate fudge pie to celebrate. (Smart move).

Then I went swimming for the second day in a row, first time I did that all month. The swimming helps tremendously.

When I returned, I rested a bit, with ice on the sore shoulder, before I fixed dinner. Dinner was a hit, especially the pie. I washed dishes while watching more Women’s NCAA Softball. These women are all my favorites. I don’t know why, except these athletes seem to be enjoying themselves, rare in sports these days.

I’m watching Thirties Era Cartoons, wacky syncopated movement and all. I might go to bed soon, after the washer is through .

Sleeping last night was on again, off again through the night and the day. I exchanged messages with Jade about my pain. Today, the big difference for me was swimming. I’ve been resisting going, but it is the best activity for me. I swam tonight at around 8 PM. I was slow, but right now speed doesn’t count.

There is more than a little drama in my head, as I have written so often. But recovery, whether from surgery, injury, or alcoholism/addiction is about doing the next right thing, however trivial, consistently. Funny how it works. Baby steps.

Chalk up Tuesday to learning a lesson. Feeling OK for two days is not recovered. The pain came back and the traction helped. This looks like a slow recovery.

I did some grocery shopping, fixed a slow cooker brisket, roasted ears of corn in the oven, and had some fresh tomatoes that tasted like real tomatoes.

I still feel erotically disconnected and probably will for a long time. For whatever reason J is sexually distant. More courtship is all I can think of to do. I make sure every lunch I pack for her is about thoughtfulness and consideration of what she likes.

So tonight, right now, I am tired. Bedtime.

Love to you all. ❤

I got my neck stretched. I feel better. To be more precise, I hurt differently.

But I am tired. And emotionally strung out. I feel the need to check in.

More later,

It is 11:30 Eastern Time. I have been miserable and discouraged most of the day. I spent a lot of time trying to get anywhere near comfortable. The pain has settled somewhat, but I’m calling the physical therapist as soon as I can tomorrow.

I hurt and I have no enthusiasm about anything. As a therapist once told me I’m “shoulding” all over myself. I should be swimming, doing Weight Watchers, tidying up the house, reading serious books, but I just don’t care.

So do-overs are allowed. My sobriety has never been at risks. I don’t have to find a new place to live. A pinched nerve in the neck beats a lot of other problems by a multiple of about a million, maybe a gazillion.

I love everybody. ❤

I feel like pain is oozing out of every pore in my body. It isn’t emotional pain, for the most part. There are bits of emotional trauma that come up. Nothing is so bad that it is unbearable. The physical pain is more or less constant. If it doesn’t diminish, I may resume the neck traction.

If I stay up another 20 minutes, I can watch train #86 stop in Ashland on its way North to New York. That is a goal of dubious value but the train is a magic thing for me. I fancy myself riding in the belly of the great steel snake. I will content myself with looking at this scene of Ashland on Virtual Railfan LLC http://virtualrailfanllc.com .

What would Rembrandt or Cezanne or Seurrat have painted had they been able to see this masterpiece of pixillation which is this digital image. Would they have even have bothered to paint if they lived in a world where billions of images are stored on giant computers all over the Earth.

But then again, we have to want to see.

I have become very sceptical about the whole notion of a sexual double standard, that excuses promiscuity, and extramarital sexual activity in males, but condemns such activity by females. I seem to recall Ann Landers and Dear Abby both condemning this behavior, irrespective of who engages in it.

From an historical perspective, sexual promiscuity by men in Victorian times was why the sexually transmitted disease rates were so high. Churchill’s father died of syphilis, as did Nietzsche and Smetana. Frederick Delius went blind from an STD.

The sauce for the gander is sauce for the goose argument has always been weak and has always been proffered by those who would profit from promiscuity, err, sexual liberation, people the likes of Hugh Hefner, the undisputed King of Creepy of the late 20th Century.

I was all set to swim, but I stopped to eat a banana and drink some kefir. I start watching a Japanese movie on YouTube, in Japanese with no subtitles. The challenge is to follow the story through pictures and sound only. It was a good movie. Whilst watching, my friend texted me and we texted about stuff. I needed to connect with John more than I needed a swim.

Then I went to AA.

I’m waiting to hear from J. She is working later than originally scheduled. The phone rings and it’s a robocall from a time share resort. Oh Boy. This is an AI voice, and it responds to how I answer. I stay silent. The call hangs up.

Life in the 21st Century.