I showed up yesterday morning to the coffee shop before the sun rose and found that they’d taken away the tables to my surprise. They’d replaced them with a long bench and six small tables along the bench, chairs on the other side, and two large round tables with six chairs total. There was nowhere else to sit in there. They’d designed the shop to where my neighbors were practically sitting on my lap. I’ve lost my privacy in here.

It never fails that the older I get, the more is taken away from me. How much will I have in ten years? I imagine not much. I should be thankful for what I have right now. I used to write a list of gratitude. I’m grateful for this laptop, for this shirt, for these shorts, for my deck shoes, for my apartment… I’m thankful for everything I have because I don’t know what will be gone tomorrow, except my clothes of course. I know I’ll probably keep those. But as for everything else…

I’m also thankful for my hands. I can’t type without them. My left hand went numb yesterday. I was typing when I suddenly lost feeling. I panicked when I lifted my arm. My left hand bent and spasmed. I paced my apartment and wriggled my left arm, but all I felt were pins and needles. I thought about driving to emergency in the middle of my work shift, but I couldn’t drive there with one arm. I worried about a stroke or a heart attack. I heard that’s a symptom. The feeling gradually came back, but my left hand didn’t feel the same for the rest of the night.

Now I type with one hand that’s colder than the other. I also thought of carpal tunnel syndrome. One symptom is numbness and tingling. That which I’m experiencing. How scary, having no control. Is there a pill I can swallow for carpal tunnel? Who knows?

There’s also a mysterious rash on my left arm. I’ve been going through high stress, so I blame that. Otherwise, I’m clueless as to what’s happening.

Not to mention, my imagination has run away like a squirrel. I used to have one when I was younger, when there was less stress. But it’s an evasive animal. All I can hope for is a return like the sensation in my hand.