"Shifted my weight, scooting my butt close to the edge, started rocking, and heaved my hulk up from the recliner, which is now closest thing I got to a friend. Years of assimilation has left imprints of my posterior on the seat cushion, which allows me to take aim and find my mark when conventional methods of sitting fail me. Stumbled a couple of feet finding my balance and was immediately reminded of arthritic joints and how this incessant cold was wreaking havoc, thought of life on Bogue Banks at this moment was appealing. I have on occasion contemplated moving south to Florida to escape winters, but idea of having to associate with people my own age is revolting. Most smell like mildew and the rest like embalming fluid, and everyone is waiting for the other shoe to drop."
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