Where am I?

"The regular early morning yell of horror was the sound of Arthur Dent waking up and suddenly remembering where he was."

I don't exactly scream, but then I'm not two million years away from the nearest bus.
On waking I just ache in my arms, shoulders,  back... and have a dull slightly sickly headache that follows me all day, most days.
From this I have to build, or at least stack one day on another.

I'm fully aware that I must neither moan too loudly, nor drop into self pity.
I have a roof over my head*, access to clean water, I can afford food and heat, and no-one is shooting at me.
I am better off than millions and millions of people.
Let's keep that pinned somewhere in mind for a sense of proportion.

But this isn't exactly where I was aiming for, either.
Not Shangri-La or Xanadu.
("Don't you just love it when a plan falls apart?", as Hannibal Smith never had to say.)
I can't do paid work, I've had to give up my volunteering, I can't even pursue my hobbies effectively.
I live with over a thousand books that I can't read: the eyesight's there, but the concentration isn't.  And there are enough sharp bits of the brain operational to really notice the bits misbehaving, and get frustrated by them.

So what's the approach?  I've never got the hang of plucking optimism from nowhere and castles in the air, to me, have foundations that don't meet building codes.

It is somewhat old fashioned but I have found nothing to out-perform "soldiering on": as perfectly exemplified by the drawings of Bruce Bairnsfather  in WW1.  Above all, the "better 'ole".

Says, if not it all, then a good part of it.

Today I shall try for a little housework, and maybe a smidgeon of model-making.  (A cliff needs creating, as it has for a while).  I will need a lot of being horizontal and inactive.

Let's see if this plan holds together when it encounters reality.

 (*much needed, given the weather forecast, with flood warnings.)