So, I just spent a day piddling around IMA getting my heart checked out. (You’ll all be glad to know I’ve got one, and that it’s in full working order.) Had a stab of pain this morning, coupled with a funny feeling in the two outside fingers on my left hand. The stab was nothing unusual, and quickly went away; the funny feeling did not. So, even though my brain was telling me, this is nothing,
still, you gotta check things out. I was hoping to go to the holler this week, and I don’t want to be behind locked gates in a place where cell phones don’t get service when The Big One™ hits, you know?
I’m guessing it was all just stress. I’m like a canary in a coal mine; sooner or later, my internal stresses always show up in physical ways. This particular funny feeling was probably just the load I’ve been carrying for the past several months shifting on me. And what kind of load would that be? Well, now you’re asking. I got my form to fill out for my annual interview with the DS: my 2014 Pastor Self Evaluation. The first question is, “How are you . . . really?” I felt like putting down T-Bone’s response:
You ask so many questions, what answers shall I choose?
Is it Plato’s heebie-jeebies or just Existential Blues?”
Wiseacre-dom aside, the question still must be answered. And the fact is, I’m stressed. Way stressed. I’m not complaining; neither am I bragging. It’s just a condition of (my) life. If you really wanna know, here are the biggies.( Collapse )