I moved a car with my bare hands

My cousin who got my name in the Christmas gift draw gave me a bag of her husband's trade paperbacks (bound comic book collections) as part of my present.

This was awesome for me, but I feel for her husband, who was thinning out his  collection to make more room for their baby.

The gift meant I had to make room for them, but no comics were gotten rid of. Well, actually, one was. But it was a single comic that was ruined by water. Also, I had a copy of it elsewhere.

Mostly, it just meant reorganizing.

One of the items that needed organizing was my binder of exercises given me by physical therapists over about 35 years.

I went through it, disposing of ones that required standing or even the floor. And I found some from an occupational therapist in Winston-Salem about hand exercises.

I mentioned those to Mom who replied that "sometimes thinking about your life makes me so sad. Me, too, I told her. She said it made her proud, too.

But I am sticking with sad.

I don't know how I survived my five years in Winston.

My parking lot had two levels. To get to work one wintry day, I somehow walked the length of the second level, down a hill and  got in a friend's car. Not before I slipped, grabbed the car for balance and wound up sending the car skidding toward me on the ice.

Now I need to go read comics to keep from crying/throwing up. Good thing I have a bunch of new ones.