It's been one of those days that I have spent almost entirely on Couch, watching useless TV and surfing the net.
I can feel my butt getting bigger by the minute from hours of inactivity. My thumb is numb from hitting the mute button to zap out all the blaring and stupid commercials.
Whenever I get vertical, after a few minutes of doing anything, the muscles in my arms and legs begin to burn and I break out in a sweat. Crumb. Time to head back to Couch.
I settle back on Couch and notice that I'm leaving a permanent indent in the middle cushion. A large indent. Honestly.
John comes in to the room and puts on a DVD. It's the show "Band of Brothers", a series about soldiers in WWII. It's graphic and real and inspiring, yet incredibly sad. The stories are told by men, now old, who lived to share their gut-wrenching experiences.
We watch together for an hour, transfixed.
I feel like crawling under Couch in shame. What right do I have to complain about my life?
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