And they were pretty darned good.
But it turned out that I moved a lot of stuff on my own.
And at my age (middle late 70's) it turns out that my body doesn't react the way it did 40 years ago.
As I said to Judy (the vaunted SWMBO), I don't remember getting bruises like this when we moved in the past.
She said something rude like "you ain't the young guy I married, lo, those many years ago."
And I'm not.
Because of atrial fibrillation, and a pacemaker/defibrillator, and cholesterol and whatever problems my heart has decided to have (through ABSOLUTELY no fault of my own), I'm on blood thinners, as well as a number of other drugs.
And the blood thinners alone result in splotches like this from the nearest touch.
There's not any real pain, other than the pain of not being the movie-idol leading man of my youth.
But they sure leave their mark.
But don't cry for me, Argentina.
This, too, shall pass.
And maybe I can someday get back to taking photos of visitors to our birdbath once again.