The quiet joy of contentment

My thumb, index finger and middle finger all have a numbness to them for the past 10 days. It feels like I burnt them on hot pans, but I know better. It's not what I expected carpal tunnel to feel like, but the symptoms seem to be such.

Doesn't hurt. I try to do things with my less dominate hand to give the hand a rest, but the numbness persists. I have a doctor's appointment soon. He probably thinks I need to learn how to be more ergonomic, since I was complaining about numbness in my feet last year.

My dad's having CIDP has made me slightly paranoid of numbness.

I really find the fact that he fears death puzzling. He's in constant pain and has no reason to hope for a cure for his ailments, yet he gets worked up over kidney cancer.

Maybe it's 'cause I sense that I'm to walk the earth for a while into the future that I find death puzzling. I don't face death daily, though my driving tends to draw doubt there. Death is inevitable.

I wonder if my lack of fear for the inevitable is what keeps me from feeling actual motivation to "seize the day." I can picture the cover of my Life and Times of Tristan Shandy with Sterne looking in the mirror and seeing a boneman.

L.S. knew he was dying thus tried to finish his rambling work sooner than later.

I wonder if procrastinators are happier than their opposites.

I hope to have the tile done by Mother's Day.

My Caterpillars seemed to be melting. Once they die, I have to kill off my Wolverines before I buy another pair of work boots. Not sure why I got the second pair aside from the fact they were on sale. I'm a sucker for shoes. I keep them much longer than an average person does. Shame Bass had a buy one get two free sale right before I lost my office job. I'll have those shoes when I die at the rate that I'd need to replace them.