Usually I’m not a big proponent of the “good old days” theory. When you get right down to it the good old days were full of disease, short lives, racism, sexism, etc. But some traditions from that more genteel era I sorely miss.
Disease and recovery used to be a fine art. Disease was a serious issue. Few survived simple infections and fevers. People who did recover, took their time and made damn-well sure they were over it before they went back to the daily grind.
Today, we are given a hand-full of pills and it’s back to work. We are even expected to show up on the weekend and help our mothers-in-law, or in my case the Kraken, move furniture. Well I’ve had enough. I’m not busting my spleen or ejecting my pancreas for anyone. I like my organs where they are. I like my back intact.
I want my sanitarium. I want a healthy, relaxed breakfast instead of toast in the driveway. I want teatime on the veranda with mineral water and sliced fruit. I want to get healthy the old fashion way with relaxation, good diet, and meditation.
I enjoy my job, but I enjoy my life more. Give me back my slack!
