Lucky enough to have people worried if they see me on the ground, yet spry enough to still be able to choose getting down and getting back up.
Wife came home over the weekend, and I was laying on the flor of the garage. Nice and cool, knees bent with the back flat. I was sure to look over and smile as she drove in, so she wouldn't freak.
"I'm not paying you to lay on the ground, farmer-boy"
"You aren't paying me to anything"
