Resonates

 Largely resonate with this!! from a dear friend.

I'm at an age where taking care of my health has turned into an extreme sport.

If I eat sugar, my glucose spikes. If I eat salt, my blood pressure spikes. If I see the price of medications, both spike.

If I drink water, I’m running to the bathroom every five minutes. If I don’t drink, I get dehydrated. I’m already thinking of putting a TV in the bathroom and just calling it my living room.

If I eat, I gain weight. If I don’t eat, I get weak. If I eat only salad, I get sad. And if I get sad, I eat.

The doctor told me to listen to my body. I did: it’s nothing but complaints. Feels like an Apartment Association meeting.

If I exercise, the next day I need help to sit down. If I don’t exercise, I need help to stand up. I’m paying for a gym membership just to figure out which way I prefer to suffer.

If I sleep too much, my back hurts. If I sleep too little, I turn into a zombie. If I sleep wrong, I spend three days looking to the left.

By the way, I discovered it’s possible to get injured while sleeping. Back in the day, I had to fall off a bike. Now I just pick the wrong pillow.

If I drink coffee, I can’t sleep. If I don’t drink it, I don’t function. My body’s like an old car: takes forever to start, and once it does, no one knows what that noise is.

In the morning, I don’t wake up anymore… I resurrect. First I open my eyes, then I check which parts came with me. I sit on the edge of the bed and wait for the system to recognize my knees.

And my memory? It’s great! I just can’t remember where I left it.

The other day I walked into a room and forgot what I was going to do. I went back to remember and forgot where I’d come from. Since I was already on my feet, I headed to the bathroom.

But we’ve got to take life lightly. Being alone and not talking to anyone isn’t good for you.

I mentioned that to the microwave and the toaster while we were having coffee. They both agreed. The toaster even got emotional and popped the bread.

I don’t talk to the washing machine anymore: she twists everything and then goes in circles on the same topic.

The fridge is cold, but I’ll admit she’s the only one who lights up when she sees me.

The iron is way too hot-headed. The oven, too. And the vacuum only shows up to suck the energy out of me.

My best friend now is the sofa. He welcomes me without asking questions. The problem is he won’t let me go afterward.

So let’s laugh while we still remember the joke!

As for the stages of life, I’ve adopted a really simple classification:

Up to 50, we make plans.

After 50, we get checkups.

After 70, we compare results with friends.

After 90, you can eat the whole cake: anyone who wants to complain will have to make it there first!

And now I’ll wrap this up because I got up to do something.

If anyone knows what it was, let me know.