I was thinking about bending over to pick something up the other day… I was getting ready to start collecting bowls to feed everyone. I walked to the first bowl and thought, “I hate bending over to pick that up.” In the next thought, I realized the ridiculousness of that thought because it was a necessary action. And I pondered it more. In the morning, I bend over at a minimum: 34 times to pick up dogs bowls, 34 times to put them back down with food in them and almost that many times to clean poop up in the yard. In the evening, the same routine. That’s about 200 times a day just for the dogs. What about when I drop something on the floor?
What’s all this mean? I may be getting old, but I must have a pretty tight butt from all the bending.