I rolled over in bed last night and made the mistake of stretching my legs.

Almost instantly, my left calf started to seize up in a massive Charley Horse.

And now it’s time for a breakdown….

If I had a dollar for every time this has happened to me, I could buy myself a brand new summer wardrobe and even a fancy brassiere.

Undies optional.

In the past, I would have vocalized my distress.

“Ow, ow, owie, ow! Fuck!”

But last night, I didn’t make a peep. I just sat up and rubbed my hardened calf like I have done so many numerous times. Eventually, I could feel the muscle start to loosen. It took about 2 minutes because the bastard didn’t want to let go.

I decided to use the bathroom since I was wide awake, so I gingerly put some weight on my leg.

Dang, that hurt.

Yet again, no sound came from me. A silent wince was all I was giving this fucker.

Because I am used to it. I have become complacent.

I seriously wouldn’t know how to behave if I awoke without some kind of pain. In fact, I betcha I would probably think that I was dead.

I want to be cremated, no funeral. Scatter my ashes next to the jukebox when I die.

Rock and Roll, please.