…Because my back is extremely delicate.
I spent five hours yesterday, splitting firewood. Five hours! I couldn’t have kept that up for as much as an hour back in my former life. And this is after most (oh god I hope) of a winter basically sitting on my frozen ass, with no more upper-body exercise than I get from shivering. I was quite pleased with myself.
I was also in great pain. But that will fade. In the meantime I picked up yet another one-time gig, and the prospect of more from yet another source. As long as I can keep up this infernal manual labor bullshit, this can work indefinitely. Excellent, and exactly according to plan. Though I certainly prefer not to work that hard.
Let this be a lesson to you who seek a life off the grid and off the books. There are at least two proven paths to success:
- Be not picky about what you’re willing to do for income.
- Choose your parents wisely, and be born rich.
Personally I suggest that second one, if you can find a way to work it. Your back will thank you.
Indeed, and arrange not to get old ever either. sigh
I’ve lost track of all the things I can no longer do. My back just won’t stand for it.
Heck, I used to break horses and wrestle with cows. Now the thought of needing to help the old dog up the stairs makes me cringe.
Well, option number 2 is out for me, so it’s a good thing I’m not picky, about work that is.
I can still chop and haul, Joel, though I do not do it as often as you appear to be, unless you count the number of times I shovel my driveway and sidewalk.