Two days painting the kitchen ceiling. Haven’t had my eyes fixed in a heavenward direction in a while, and was made to pay for it.
Michelangelo complained of growing a goiter while working his gig in the Sistine. My ailments are relegated to the neck and back, but I can sympathize.
A good buddy sent me a recording of Richard Burton reading Dylan Thomas’s “The Force that through the Green Fuse Drives the Flower.” That lovely poem did what a bottle of Advil couldn’t.