My tired is tired

As I walked up the front walk carrying tonight's pizza, I thought of lying face down on the grass, arms extended, holding the pizza box out in front of my tired little head. I did not lie down. I persevered. Now I am stuffed and tired.

I could blame 44 years of sloth for my current exhaustion, but I blame pilates. One class and I thought I'd have to ask for a bag to carry my pelvis home. This morning, I was suspiciously not sore. By 4 p.m., however, I felt like I climbed Mt. Everest to get to my pilates class. The old grey Mare, she ain't what she used to be.

I always thought of myself as hale and hardy. Now my personal ecosystem is so tenuous that last Thursday my whole day was ruined when I got water up my nose (swimming). Feeble, thy name is Misty.