Every so often, my back fails at it’s normal functions and I’m slightly informed of what being old will feel like.

It’s gonna be miserable. Walking bent over, feeling a cane would be helpful, and being unable, despite best attempts, to stand up straight isn’t fun.

Carrying water to the goats is enough to make me want to cry. Carrying babies is nearly impossible.

My kids think I’m nuts. So do I. Me and the bottle of ibuprofen are necessary friends, and there’s no end in sight.

Back to my hot pad.