When Gotta Do's Gotta Go

     I blow my nose and lift the Kleenex away. It’s red - a bloody nose.
     What’s this? A sign of “the thing” that’s going to take me out eventually? I hope not.
     I have to get the bloody thing stopped, so I stuff a Kleenex up my nostril, lay on my back on the bed, and hang my head over the edge. That should dam the flow, but an acrid taste trickles down my throat.
     Hanging my head is an exercise I’m supposed to do every day anyway, to keep my neck from jutting forward. It’s to overcome my hunching over the computer. Jutting-neck-something-or-other-itis, it’s called.
     While suspended over the edge of the bed, I take slow, deep breaths, a routine I should do every day to increase lung capacity to overcome shallow-breath-itis. And I flex my feet forward and back to take any impediment out of my peds. This way, I’m multitasking through my list of daily supposed-to-do’s.
     However, in this position I don’t dare lift my hand weights. I might drop them and crack my nose, which would only make my nosebleed worse.

HEALTH AND MORTALITY

     I know these routines are supposed to help me keep this carcass moving while extending my life. But really, if I did every one I’m supposed to do every day (plus follow the schedule for checking smoke alarm batteries and the carbon monoxide monitor and the garage door electric eye), I wouldn’t have time for something that can easily get squeezed out - LIFE.
     Somehow, in this modern maze, I’ve got to fight for time to kick back. Time to belly laugh. I don’t want to spend my days trying to stay alive at the expense of living. That’d be enough to give me a nosebleed all over.
     Do "gotta do’s" get in the way of your living?