Private Note to Self: You are getting old

This last weekend, I spent about 60 hours loading/unloading/loading/unloading and finally off-loading donated items for a parking lot sale to raise money for our cat/dog rescue. I am exhausted. The sale, normally only one day, turned into two.

I live on a hillside and getting anything in or out or to the house requires serious reflection. The road is one-car wide.

The piano, which we had to bring in over a wall (a 3/4 upright) required 10 complaining people to move in and I was so scared I was tempted to leave and get reports later. Mostly I paced and fretted. I will never move it again, believe me, despite the fact that I adore the thing. This piano has an old-church and ballet-class sound which I happen to personally adore. This is an old two-pedal piano with soul and ivory keys that I taught young kids on (I only taught kids under 7, and they learned college level theory from me, though I never scared them with that or, perhaps more true, never scared their parents with that). It has also served alternatively as a great cat perch and basis for my mini shrine. It is the basic composition instrument for some very favorite songs written. It isn't a handsome piano, but I love it. Looks aren't everything as any sensible human knows.

So after this weekend, I had to finally admit I am getting old. I get up earlier, move less in one trip, wear more sensible shoes, and go to bed earlier when really tired. I even wear a hat (I swam Jr. Olympics as a kid and surfed... so a HAT???????).

The purpose of this self-imposed physical abuse is to raise money for the dog/cat rescue. We raised enough to neuter 24 male cats or 18 female cats or 7 dogs under 20 pounds or 4 dogs 70 lbs. Altogether I figure I spent about 40 hours, including 16 of those on my feet, to do this. A labor of love, absolutely, but I am not convinced this is the best use of my time.

Don't get me wrong, I'm one that moves 1000 lbs. of food or even double that at a time, by myself. I'm not adverse to hard work. And I know I cannot be. Were I to stop working, my body would protest in other ways. I work hard, and I don't mind it. I am grateful that I have a body to support my life's mission.

But private note to self: Is this the best way to earn this money, or are there other better ways? Investigate. And next time, think before you spend 16 or so hours out in 100 degree weather... mostly in the sun.

I am getting old. It's a relatively new notion I am seriously resisting and will no doubt resist until I flat-line. Nonetheless, the notion has some traction today.