Saved in the basement

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We, meaning I, lead a simple life in the temporary palace basement of Team Henneke.

I have no DVR, no online access without standing on my head, the toilet starts bubbling from the other room for no reason and my television channels consist mostly of PBS stations.

Don’t take this for complaining. For this tiny basement with the square footage of a baseball card might have saved my life.

Melodramatic, you say? Perhaps. It may be a hard thing to imagine because, except for the steady drip coming from the shower, it’s quiet here. The portable gas heater makes a comfortable clicking sound when it runs. And every so often, I can hear the sound of little feet running on the floor above me. It makes me long for home for just a minute.

No, I’m thankful for this temporary life, in a new place, with nothing to do but to practice a little life resistance training.

For the first time, I’m exercising muscles I didn’t know I had. Not the physical kind that require deep heating ointment.

No, I’m talking about life muscles, stretching them just a tiny bit to another level.

It’s not a sudden, dramatic change. It’s much like my longstanding practice to take the stairs instead of the elevator, or to park in the spot furthest away from the store.

Instead of spending hours watching television, I’m writing letters to my family. Instead of eating constantly, I’m listening to good music and reading more.

I struggle some days, but I can feel something slowly changing inside.

About time I grew up.