now sitting’s going to kill me

boy sitting

I drive the mail around.

I sit on my butt and reach into an organized pile of mail, pull out the pieces that are supposed to go to the address I’m currently stopped at, and put them into the mailbox.

Then I drive to the next mailbox and repeat the process.

Then I drive to the next mailbox and repeat the process.

Then I drive to the next mailbox and repeat the process.

I do this 6 days a week …Saturday through Friday.  You would think I have it nailed by now, and I probably could do it in my sleep…I’m getting fairly comfortable with doing the same thing day in and day out.

I’ve been reading a lot of articles in some of the magazines we get at the house about how bad sitting is for a person…how sitting encourages obesity and promotes an early demise.

I sit all the time.

I can’t avoid it.  I have to sit to deliver the mail.  I don’t know any other way.

Thoreau said something about quiet desperation.  I know that’s true.  I chafe against doing the same thing every day (when someone else is designing parts of my day….I’d eat the same peanut butter sandwich for lunch every day and do it unconsciously…I don’t think my repetitive choices bother me as much as long as they’re self-directed) but it’s a good trade right now.  I like having an income.

But this sitting revelation is kind of a drag.

If I find out that I need to watch my cholesterol, I can stop eating the three meat pizza at Sam’s Club.  I can exercise more.  I can be proactive about the grease floating around in my body.

I don’t know what to do about the sitting, though.

I haven’t figured out how to build a right hand drive stand up mobile yet that would pass inspection.

Like my son used to say when confronted with a really vexing situation, “I CAN’T KNOW!!”

Apparently, it’s not a situation where you can counteract the effects of sitting by exercising more, either.  You can’t fight the sitting rap…you can’t beat the system.

If you’re sitting, you’re dying.

DANGIT.

Maybe a “chinese fire drill” every 15 minutes is the way to go?  I’ll just stop at a stop sign or a country crossroad and run around the car a couple of times, throw my hands in the air, get my blood pumping.

I might even make the evening news if I do it long enough.  It would be an unusual sight…might make a good segment for “These United States” or “American Strong” or some segment like that.

It’s like anything else, I suppose.  Maybe worrying about how my job is killing me is going to kill me.

Maybe it’s the worry.  I should just take the “ignorance is bliss” thought and run with it.

Or just sit with it.

Whatever.

About Peter Rorvig

I'm a non-practicing artist, a mailman, a husband, a father...not listed in order of importance. I believe that things can always get better....and that things are usually better than we think.

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