Like so many of you, we’ve been drinking more than we used to. Maybe not as much as last year, and it still is in a range, on average at least, that doesn’t outwardly alarm the doctor. As far as we can tell, he’s doing the same. But on reflection, we realize that the rate of consumption is enough for us to keep asking ourselves if it’s just enough or too much—as if we need one more thing to worry about.
And holy Jesus we’re fat. Maybe you wouldn’t notice just spectating from the sidelines day to day, but there are definitely contrasts between then and now, whatever your definition and timescale might be. It’s understandable, all the starches just sitting here, and it’s not like beer is calorie free.
This might all speak to our general lackings in self-restraint. It’s easy to be sucked into the pit that is the screen on a phone, the doom of the headlines in the news app. I refresh the screen hoping that there will be an improvement, a silver lining or a Hail Mary pass, but it’s just as hopeless as continuing to stare at our flabby selves in the mirror, standing in my boxer shorts with rolls and wrinkles in sharp relief. Which, in spite of the decline, is not itself motivation to actually fix anything myself.
But the kids are fine, at least. They have no idea what they’re going to do when they grow up, but then neither did we; and we still don’t. We love them and they’re beautiful and they’ll be fine.
We bought a new bed last month to help ease our old bones and aches. It’s an improvement, and it’s timely because I hurt myself hauling, wrestling the bed through the narrow doorway and up the staircase to the second story of the house. I’m sure the injury was preventable, but it seemed necessary in order to install the 200-pound.
In retrospect this was a really dumb thing to do, but it’s all par for the course. We’ve gotten stupider in the last year. Or maybe our intelligence has been slowly eroding for some time now, but we haven’t been able to recognize it. I push heavy things up stairs without thinking through the simple action of gravity; I grab at a stovetop pot handle to test if it’s too hot to grab; I lose glasses on shelves or end tables or on my own person; I can’t remember if I took my medication and/or worry that I’ve taken my medication twice in one evening and then worry that I may have overdosed as I lie in bed, aching joints and troubled mind, what mind there is left. Each morning is a miracle, not so much that the sun has risen but that I haven’t died in my sleep as a result from having taken three times my medication regimen, which I would know better if I could find my glasses and read the label on the bottle more clearly.
Being fat and stupid should have increased my empathy for my fellow humans, but in fact I’m completely unaware that my own shortcomings are something that others might have in common. I hate everyone, fat stupid people that they are, undermedicated and overindulged in food and drink. It’s remarkable that we’ve put even this much effort into sending this holiday greeting, even as late as it is, to you.
And so it is that we enter the new calendar, counting our blessings, our foibles, our wrinkles, our inadequacies and complete lack of compassion for our fellow earthlings. We wish you all of the same and more as we all waddle our way into January and beyond. Happy New Year.