A half day of chasing around puts me back on the offensive again. Here’s the day in chronological order. I was into my physician to get a referral for surgery. Yep, it’s under the knife and it is my fault for waiting twenty years. I knew it would mean a cast and there has just never been a convenient time to get this done. Now I’ll be saving tons of cash since I won’t even be driving for several months.Then I met up with Agt. M and we got the batbike over to the shop for the new tire, now a week overdue. When we turned up the driveway, he recognized my mechanic from ten years ago. It’s a small world when you deal with professionals. M is hilarious to talk philosophy with because he has such a Disneyland view of America. He will always side with the underdog, where I see a nation of professional underdogs. He believes you help everyone, I believe there is a reasonable limit to helping beyond which it is the giver that needs the help.
Now he’s limping from a tennis fall. Then Marion calls to report she developed a pressure sore. I had one once and you horrify yourself finding it. That puts the lot of us in casts, slings, or bandages at the same time. This may be a slow summer. Marion and I talked about “Zero Dark Thirty” and she tells me there is substance to the woman finding Bin Laden. Nobody would turn the bad guy in but our agent got the ladies talking, the old, “Let’s tell secrets” hen party. Found him in no time.
Estelle came by to check on me, we had tea. Her concern is nice and I do happen to live right on the same bus route as she does. One conversation we finally had was about dancing. I asked her politely not to mention this “Zumba” whenever I said the word dancing, as it projected the impression she considered both these activities to be the same. (If they are, why waste good money on dance lessons?)
So I showed her videos of the years of concentrated study required to become a professional dance instructor compared to the five seconds for aerobics. She can talk about sweaty exercises any time, but please refrain from always right after I speak about dancing. I don’t think she understands. If she persists, I’ll do a Wallace on her. That’s where you bring up an inappropriate topic the moment anyone mentions “Reno”.
Did I mention we had tea? She has learned to make top grade tea. Even to the correct way to splash the hot water. I’m quite independent here so I don’t need as much help as it would appear. When she left I stayed up late because sitting is more comfortable. And I made chicken vegetable soup, now that I’ve finally learned to like it with a fraction of the salt. You be careful with that stuff, now.
