CARRY ON CARRYING ON

Many people spent today thinking about their mother (it being M-day), or Game of Thrones, or the playoffs. A coworker was thinking of his wife and the mother of his offspring -- he left early to buy her flowers and take her out to dinner, which was very sweet of him -- and one of the regulars lurked in the backroom for the game, getting away from stuff like that.
He seemed it a bit down. I didn't ask.

I spent all day, more or less, thinking of side effects.
A very long list of described possible problems.
One of which I am conscious of not having.

Possibly because nicotine is a vaso-constrictor. Therapeutic in this case.
That's a theory I shall NOT mention to my doctor.

One of which is a pain in the back-end, in a manner of speaking. Not major, really, but enough of a literal pain as to make me wonder whether dosages can be lessened on one with a balanced increased of another.
An extreme screaming in a shoulderblade.
Not. Quite. Crippling.



Either one constantly keeps heading forward, pushing oneself, and there will be improvement. Or one passively becomes a vegetable, bleating piteously at bus-stops, cursing the weather, one's fate, and why is everything so loud, or bright, or cold, or bad-smelling.



San Francisco is filled with the latter type. And I already spend enough time whining about the beastly cold. In that regard I am positively English.
So the stagnating part has scant appeal.

Besides, I do not have a talent for sitting still or alcoholism.

As Bill Clinton says, "we must move forward, not backward; upward, not forward; and always twirling, twirling, twirling towards freedom!"

If you stop moving, the enemy shoots you from behind the trees.

Geroni-effing-mo!



Oh, and bugger game of Thrones.
You are all very silly.




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