In my last blog I got all emotional about how my parents are slowing down with age. It was deep, it was touching…and it was absolute nonsense. Because after the past few weeks of dealing with home renovation, I have come to a stunning realization that "Iam the one falling apart".
Standing all day to supervise the work feels like I am running a marathon, except there is no medal waiting at the finish line, just back pain. Carrying a couple of boxes from one room to another has me panting like I just climbed Everest. And do not even get me started on cleaning. I thought it would be a simple dust-and-move job. Turns out, it is the Avengers-level workout I never signed up for.
Meanwhile my mom is out here acting like she is auditioning for "Superwoman Returns". She is flipping rooms like Dosai's, reorganizing the universe and still manages to sit down with a cup of tea like she is on vacation. My dad? He is strutting around like a project manager on steroids, handling things like he is back in his prime. And then there is me: collapsed on the bed, groaning louder than the construction outside.
I spent all this time worrying about my parents "losing strength", when in reality, I am the one who should be on bed rest. In my 20s, but my knees sound like bubble wrap, my back feels 80, and my energy levels are running on fumes. My parents are not slowing down instead they are lapping me.
At this rate, I might as well start planning my retirement party. Forget the gym folks just renovate your house. You won’t get fit, but you will discover muscles you did not know existed (until they all start hurting). If my body’s reaction to this is any sign, I am basically one home renovation away from needing a full time nurse.
In the End " Avasara Pattutiye Kumaru"
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