Why is it that turning 40 somehow magically comes with something hurting every morning? It’s like Nature’s little birthday gift! “Yay, you’re 40 (or older), here are some weird aches and pains you get just for sleeping! Hooray!”
Mmmm hmmmm. That’s nice. Isn’t it fun being a grown up?
I am a pretty active person and this still happens to me, so don’t give me your theories on waning core strength. I DON’T BELIEVE YOU.
It’s not my pillow or mattress, either. NOPE.
And I know that 40 is supposed to be the new 12, and all of that. It’s not the number as much as the feeling. As Indiana Jones explains in Raiders of the Lost Ark, “It’s not the years, honey– it’s the mileage.” (And the very real possibility that one sudden a.m. sneeze could incapacitate me for days.)
If any of you have figured out how to do it, let me know. Luck favors the prepared, after all.
Bless you, dear readers. And go carefully into your weekends.
Cheers,
NOTE: This is not a sponsored post, merely the ramblings of an over-40 non-morning person who may or may not have been felled in the middle of her kitchen by a rather powerful sternutation in the not-so-distant past.
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