It’s 1:25 a.m. and I am being serenaded by one single cricket outside my bedroom window. He (or is it she?) is loud enough that I can hear it through my closed window. It doesn’t stop for a second.
I’m trying to determine if one Robax Platinum and one Advil Liquigel will work in tandem for my back and feet. All of one or all of the other I am thinking won’t cut it. I have been lying here writhing in pain, thinking it’s a good thing I sleep alone tonight. A partner would either have left in a huff or taken pity on me and massaged my tender tootsies – if I were particularly lucky.
Despite having soaked my feet in my cool pool – maybe a salted footbath would have been better – the throb continues – particularly in my left foot. I give in and pop a second Advil and let loose a little prayer.
I’m reminded of my first season at the golf course, four years ago. It took me months to adapt and my feet had a hard time of it. Good shoes go a long way. Orthotics help as well. Last year I had a much better year with fabulous shoes. Of course, with the mileage we do during a summer, one season is all you can ask from a pair of shoes.
So, this year, the shoe guy came directly to the club with all sorts of samples of the same type of shoe I had last year. Woot! But, not the same model. Not woot. I opt for a pair and hate them on my second shift. I cannot return them so I go shopping. Find another similar to last year’s and figure I’m good. Nope.
Last year I swore it was my last season and here I am again. What in the blessed fuck am I doing to myself? It is only mid-August and I have until the end of October before golf season ends. Then, come November and December we have 8-10 Christmas parties and then we’re done. I mean DONE. January till April will be mine. And lemme tell you, I am not the only one dreaming of the end. Some of us have been dreaming of it since last June. It’s been a tough one with lots of huge events like this past night’s. 300+ guests for the Juvenile Diabetes Foundation. Great cause and they amassed over $300K.
I am not going back next year. I promise myself that. I’m too old for this shit.
It is now 2:30 and I feel the Advil kicking in and hope a visit from Morpheus is pending.