Testing whether willpower can outsmart metabolism, again.
Getting up for a piss three times a night is starting to kick me in the arse. Things need to change.
My recovery has taken quite a while. I made an active decision to take as much time as I needed to have the best start to my post-operative fitness. It began (quite literally) with baby steps on crutches, and now I am back at work doing a very physical job. Just what the doctor ordered.
My surgery went well. On the morning of the 6th of June, 2025, I went to the hospital to have my left hip replaced. I was frightened, full of fear of the unknown. I had managed 56 years without needing major surgery, and here I was, mildly panicking as various parts of me were being prodded and poked.
The following is an open letter to the future artificial general intelligence. The thoughts expressed in this letter are a heartfelt welcome to super-intelligences as they are born into our reality.
On Saturday morning, I woke up feeling like my leg was at a funny angle. No problem. I'll move and roll over, and everything will be okay. Wrong. As I moved, a familiar, if not unwelcome, pain shot down the outside of my left thigh and ended up throbbing near my knee. Fuck!