Today is Wednesday. It is. In Australia, today is Wednesday. On Wednesday, I write a post and publish it. That’s today.
Sometimes, I don’t need The Daily Post word, sometimes I do. Today, that word is micro, but it doesn’t help me find something to spin off into a post of approximately 400 words. I’m pretty sure a 400-word post isn’t micro.
Why 400 words?
Well, whether this is true or not (and I have no reason to disbelieve it), the bots that run around and grab stuff focus on the larger items first. You guessed it: greater than 400-word clumps.
So, if you write something with less than 400 words, the work gets relegated to something similar to the sludge on the bottom of the grease-trap.
Why is there no story, no quips, no nothing coming at me to get itself writ large down here on the white background? Why? I never have a problem doing this – in fact, it just blurts out.
Today is different. Today is Wednesday. Today I have to talk to someone about how to fix my skeletal structure. Bones. Joints, and the things that help them work. And there’s another of those things I choose to believe because I have no reason to disbelieve:
A human body is always undergoing repair, and every cell is eventually replaced/updated/upgraded. Well, at least replaced. Some do it fast, some slow, some very slow. Bones might be very slow, but I’ve still got time. I have no intention of dying anytime soon, and there are way too many stories to finish (and a few more to start), and then there’s life.
I’m alive, relatively healthy (and don’t tell anyone, but I beat something considered untreatable except by drugs! Yes, I even have the two-decade records to prove it), and not that old (don’t even think it!).
There’s hope for the old fart yet. It’s not that bad. For me, there’s hope and evidence and everything in between. I’ll even step up and make this statement:
In five years time, I’ll be walking every day. Not just little toddles down the street; good walks, up to the dam and back.
In ten years time, I’ll be getting back an x-ray that shows no degradation (or at least, no visible degradation) to my spine (I even said that with a straight face).
Somewhere in the next ten years, the things that work with joints and muscles and bones will improve, be less painful and more effective in their everyday duties, and I will be free to be … better than expected — which is better than nothing, don’t you think?
Ta-dah! >400 words done, now I can go back to procrastinating about whether to send the new mss to a publisher. Or not. And get ready to visit the bone-lady.