I feel like Smiegel in J.R.R. Tolkien’s books. A shriveled, disheveled, lost, ugly creature with a loincloth (maybe) creeping about the dripping, wet caverns of the underworld eating raw fish and cradling my “Precious” — my climbing shoes — in my arms, defending them from any harm or Hobbits that may come my way… I’m practically climbing the walls of my mom’s house right now! I’m going insane, I know I am, and that’s a good sign, I think. Why would that be a good sign? Well, because I have the energy to go insane, of course! I’ve had pneumonia, probably the worst case I’ve ever had, for the last month and been very sick indeed. I haven’t had any energy and the current pandemic gave me plenty of reason to worry about catching that as well. Had I caught COVID-19 on top of my Strep B pneumonia, I’d have been a goner! I’m on the mend, though, such that I have some energy to spare on thoughts like climbing and my lack of the ability to do so at the moment. I’m glad for that energy! I’m sad that I can’t climb, of course, but the energy to want to do so is a great sign. I’m no longer a golem… Yay! I have hope!
Content Rating PG, for the most part
I try to keep the content of my posts in the PG range (meaning that maybe your 13-year-old should not read it... Just kidding!) - you know, something I could get away with tastefully in the town square without getting lynched, tarred-and-feathered, or hung (and something my mother would NOT wash my mouth out with soap for). As far as what age you have to be to understand some of the subtleties of my humor in writing and/or speaking, well... That may vary. A lot.