It started with the B-12.
I had been dragging recently in the mornings, so I thought I’d take some B-12 my wife had in a kitchen cabinet, but had quit taking. I let one dissolve under my tongue on Saturday, and it seemed to work. I loaded up my truck with stuff from our garage that we needed to get rid of, and set out to rapidly accomplish a series of tasks:
- Went to the pharmacy to pick up a refill.
- Wanting to give away anything charity might accept before going to the dump, I drove to His House over on Meeting St. The lady who came out said right off she wasn’t taking that mattress, but I assured her that was going to the dump. I was there about three things I thought someone might want. She accepted two of them, but not the almost unused Christmas tree stand (we went back to artificial several years ago). It seems they had too many of them.
- On a lazier day, I might have gone on to the dump. But not today. I headed to Goodwill, and they gladly took the stand.
- Then I headed to the dump — I mean the county Collection and Recycing Center. Not the one near me, but to one almost half an hour away that I had heard was more likely to take the mattress. I went out to the one at 325 Landfill Lane, Gaston (I assume no one’s trying to sell residential real estate there). And they took everything else. Done and dusted.
- As I left the dump, I regretted I hadn’t thought to bring my golf clubs, or I could have hit a bucket of balls at the range next door. I was still full of pep.
But that didn’t last long. When I got home, I tried working out the measurements for another complicated bookcase I plan to build, but I started making mistakes on the arithmetic and spatial relationships. So I quit and took a nap. By dinner time, I had a sore arm. And I never even ate dinner.
That’s because, in my get-things-done mood, I had done one thing too many. Right at the start, at the pharmacy, I saw a sign urging folks to get the next COVID vaccine shot, and it reminded me I was due for my second shingles shot. So I stopped and did that, because I was up for anything. And the guy who gave it to me assured me I’d never need another one. Which is good news, as it turned out.
Once it took full effect, I was sick the rest of the weekend. I couldn’t remember whether this had happened with the first Shingrix shot, but it had with every COVID shot I’ve had.
My immune system goes nuts in reaction. It feels like having the flu, only there’s no measurable fever. I can’t do anything. Sitting at my computer is too difficult, even something fun like working on my family tree. I just sat and watched movies on the TV. And I had to take periodic recesses from that, for a nap. Watching TV was too tiring.
But this is a good thing, you see. I think it means I have a strong immune system, and it’s doing its thing. No, really. I must have the immune system of Superman. Even though I can’t fly. I just have the one superpower. Apparently, if I was given a choice, I didn’t choose well. Reminds me of something my 9th-grade English teacher said to a classmate: “Boy, when they were handing out brains, you took a ham sandwich.” But while it’s not as cool as moving at super-speed, it’s what I’ve got.
I was pretty much recovered by this morning, so I took another B-12. And look — already, two posts!…