Man, the Deadwood mini-marathon tonight got awkward. Friends first took great efforts coax me out of a chair onto the couch. They then remarked that I looked tired and uncomfortable and was something the matter, Jeremy?
Instead of walking them through the long answer, I kicked up my feet on the coffee table, made a joke, and we went back to watching. They didn’t pry, yet it’s unlikely they bought it.
Not sure I would have bought it if I were in their socks either, but a lot of people can attest to the fact that I am never at ease when watching serious drama. The story sucks me in, and not in a relaxing way. My posture reflects that involvement. Often, as I get older, I simply stand while watching.
Yet they were right about a few things: I am tired and something appears to be wrong. I’m tired because I haven’t been sleeping well. The unrest is probably related to ongoing issues with my heart.
We’ve done some serious tests and, so far, nothing has bubbled up. Yet it does not feel right beating there, so more probing is called for after the doctor’s appointment Monday morning. And prayer, I suppose. If any readers are so inclined, have at it.