Whatever I said yesterday about my body not hurting “that bad” after jumping around on a trampoline this weekend, I take it back. Everything hurts. I’ve been shuffling–shuffling–around the house all day. Like an old man with a walker. They say the second day is always the worst, so maybe it’s downhill from here–or would it be uphill? I guess downhill usually means smooth sailing, but it could also mean that things are getting worse. The English language is so confusing.

Now I have a headache. I really shouldn’t think so hard.

Today I didn’t have a damn thing I had to do–nothing on the calendar at all. Consequently, I’ve been cooped up in the house from the time I got up this afternoon. I haven’t even gone to the mailbox. (Tonight’s selfie, at Starbucks, was taken yesterday.) I did consider taking a walk this afternoon, but thought, My allergies are already acting up. The last thing I’m going to do is step outside during pollen season and intentionally breathe! Instead, I propped myself up in a chair and read several chapters in a how-to book about comedy.

But don’t expect things to all-of-sudden get any funnier around here. (That’s not the way it works.)

Later I tried to take a nap but couldn’t sleep, so I watched two movies. One was about Dean Martin and Jerry Lewis and starred Sean Hayes, and the other was an old Disney movie my sister and I used to watch starring Jodie Foster. I do this occasionally, feel the need to go back decades later and rewatch movies I grew up on. I find it fascinating. Today I remembered several details about the movie–the opening scene and the movie’s ending were quite familiar–but most of the middle was faint, fuzzy, or even fresh, as if I’d never seen it before. It’s weird what your brain decides to hang on to and let go of.

Other than that, I’ve been eating constantly. The body is such a mystery. The only thing I’ve done all day is either sit in a chair or lie in bed, but the way I’ve been raiding the refrigerator, you’d think I were a marathon runner. Maybe I just don’t have anything else to do. Maybe I’m a “bored eater.” Or maybe I’ve just been starving myself to death on the Autoimmune Paleo diet for two weeks (I turned down spaghetti today). Maybe my stomach has finally had enough of grilled chicken and sweet potatoes and that’s why it’s screaming, “Give me some damn corn chips.”

That’s probably it.

I don’t have a big takeaway today but am ready to go to bed. (If I don’t, I’ll eat something else.) My eyes are watering, practically running like Niagara Falls. But I keep thinking about that Disney movie my sister and I used to watch, how seeing it today reminded me of a time when I wasn’t concerned about going outside because of the pollen count or whether or not what I was eating was good for me. This is a time I’d like to remember more often, a time when I didn’t think so hard, a time when the world worked without my worry.