It’s not a truth, it’s a joke. Because when you continuously restrict yourself from activities that cause pain, rather than find the cause and fix it, is how you become disabled permanently.
My parents are in their 70’s. They make 7 hour trips to their lake house at least a couple times a month. They also visit me in the city, and other family members, in trips that are more than an hour each way. No issues. Dad’s got two fused cervical vertebrae and a transplanted kidney and diabetes, needs both knees replaced, and does most of the driving.
The more you become inactive, the more it will hurt to move, and the more debilitated you will become.
However, I found an unusual aspect of paperhanging in one of Don Aslett’s books.
The famed cleaning authority claims that the best way to test whether a relationship between two people will last, is to put them to work hanging wallpaper. A relationship that can survive that will survive anything.
Randomly mushing buttons? We’ll get a thread in a day or two about treacherous posters in SDMB hornswoggling this poor dude into turning on his heat in 100 degree weather.
I’d learned “paperhanger” as a slang term for a counterfeiter or person who writes bad checks. So when I heard of it in the usage dougie is referencing, it made no sense. You can’t write bad checks with only one arm??
OTOH, we recently watched a 1960 episode of What’s My Line, and one of the guests was a ‘self-employed paperhanger’, so it must have been more common back in the day.
Not on your life. Unless I can ride in a someone else’s comfy, air-conditioned vehicle, and have plenty fringe benefits. Remember, I’m no spring chicken.
The closest I’ve had to a “relationship” did not survive my refusal to participate in some fraudulent endeavors–an attempt she invited me to help her in, altering a Proof of Insurance paper for her car, and representing myself as a (token) tenant so she could move into a mobile-home park in the Moreno Valley which required that one member of each household be at least 55 years old (she was 48 at the time; I was 61). I haven’t seen here in more than three years. I don’t regret it.)
The closest thing I’ve had to a “relationship” did not survive my refusal to participate in some fraudulent endeavors–an attempt she invited me to help her in, altering a Proof of Insurance paper for her car, and representing myself as a (token) tenant so she could move into a mobile-home park in the Moreno Valley which required that one member of each household be at least 55 years old (she was 48 at the time; I was 61). I haven’t seen here in more than three years. I don’t regret it.)
Remember Maureen, whom I used to mention a lot in my posts? Her grandson Bert was approaching high-school age…he did not want to attend Gardena High. So Maureen and her son Bill and I were agreeable to home schooling and we made the arrangements. Bert, however, failed to keep his part of the agreement and “dropped out” of the home-schooling program. He’s past 18 now and I don’t know what he’s doing. Apparently Gardena High is not the kind of place kids like Bert want to go to.
Hardly. I never described her daughter Adelaide as “hot.” Run the name through the SDMB search engine and you’ll see. Ditto for her granddaughter Natalie.
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