I hate it when I wake up old. I’m not muscle sore, didn’t do enough yesterday to make any one muscle sore. But I did do enough small damage to enough muscles that I woke up to most of my torso and legs announcing they’d be perfectly happy doing the couch potato thing to day, assuming the couch was comfy enough. Beeline for Ibuprofen, made I. (Hey, if I feel as old as Yoda, can’t I write like him?)
My central nervous system agreed with the couch potato goal, letting me know that the outlook for today was foggy with no signs of sharpness. The first round of Caffeine barely made a dent in the brain fog, the second raised the visibility a little.
I wandered down to the noodle place next door and noticed there were zero signs of water tossing. An hour later and still no soakers. I guess that part of the three day New Year’s celebration only lasts one day. I’d read (or misread) about how Songkren was celebrated in other towns and thought it was three days of party, more in major tourist destinations. Hua Hin is not a major tourist destination, unless you’re a Thai living in Bangkok. That’s one of the things I like about this place.
I already have plans for next year. Back mounted water reservoir, feed tube down my arm hidden by a long sleeve shirt with the nozzle in my palm. Hang out on the outskirts of the heavy action and surprise people that are mostly dry. Nah, that’s too mean for such a happy day.