I spent my allotted writing time today responding to the very interesting and thought-provoking comments people left on my latest blogs that I forgot I hadn’t yet posted a new blog. I’m glad I finally remembered, not just because I’d hate to break my 256-day streak of daily blogging, but because this has been a rather momentous couple of days for me.
It started Thursday afternoon when I went to a friend’s birthday party in the park. Since there were more than ten of us, I said that if anyone asked, to tell them it wasn’t a party — it was a protest, a protest against getting older and against isolation. I doubt that would have held sway with any arresting officers, but luckily, no one showed up but us. And oh, it was so wonderful seeing people! I even hugged a couple of dear friends, holding on as if we were saving each other’s lives instead of perhaps endangering them. (One friend is recuperating from a severe illness, and even though she isn’t contagious any longer, I couldn’t take a chance on hugging her, and I feel bad about that, but I was very glad to see her up and around.)
Despite this one lapse, I will be more diligent about isolation for a while longer. Many rural communities that managed to avoid The Bob when larger communities were suffering, ended up having problems when they opened up again, and I have a real issue with being a statistic. But that’s for the future. Now back to yesterday.
Yesterday, the contractor came to get the carport that has been cluttering up my backyard. (And brought me some fresh farm eggs!) They worked so hard taking the metal carport apart (the entire day in 100+ degree weather) that I felt as if I should be paying them, when in fact, the carport was payment for some work they had already done.
It is such a joy to have it gone! It opens up my yard and makes this place feel like an estate. (Not bad for someone who thought she’d end up living in some sort of subsidized housing.)
Even better, the garage door, opener, and the rest of the OSB board for the inside walls of the garage were delivered while they were here!!! Oh, my such excitement.
And that isn’t all. The library called. Well, the building didn’t call; a librarian did. My email from the end of March asking for books via their curb-side service apparently got lost at the bottom of their email list. The poor librarian was embarrassed and apologetic, though there was no need. Still, since I couldn’t get to the library to pick up the books, she delivered them to my house. Wow! My own private bookmobile! Luckily, they aren’t going to be charging overdue rates because I won’t be getting to the books until after I finish re-re-rereading The Wheel of Time series. I have a lot of the story in my head right now, so I’m able to find answers to various plot points and to see foreshadowings that have previously eluded me, and I don’t want to halt the momentum.
The library is aiming for a July 1 reopening, which will be nice. More than nice, actually. The only change they will really have to make is to curtail computer usage (the banks of computers are all real close to one another), which doesn’t affect me at all. I seldom see anyone in the stacks anyway, so I’m not worried, even if I’ll still be in my self-imposed isolation.
I should have babied my knee today after all that activity, but I took the time to pull some boxes of stuff out of a closet that I want to store in the garage when it is finished. And those boxes were heavy!!! They weren’t heavy the last time I lifted them, so what I have been suspecting is true: I am getting elderly.
Which reminds me of another “elderly” example. I haven’t been using the back door because the step is much steeper than normal steps and it really strains my knee, so I’ve been going in and out of the front door. Yesterday, I went out to check on the work the guys were doing, and when I tried to get back in the front door, it was locked. It confused the heck out of me because the only way to lock the door when leaving is with a key, and I didn’t have the key. I hobbled around the house to the backyard, and mentioned my dilemma. “I don’t understand how I got out here,” I said.
“You came out the back door,” one fellow said. “It didn’t look like you had any problem, either. You just came out.” Then he kindly went in the house and unlocked the front door for me so I didn’t have to navigate that step. (Apparently, going out is a lot easier on my knee than climbing back in.)
Yep. Old. I don’t remember going outside. Not at all. I know it’s easy not to remember things you do by rote (which is why if you want to remember locking a door or some such, you need to do something different, like patting the key when you are finished. You still won’t remember locking the door, but you will remember patting the key.) But it’s been so long since I went out that door that I would have thought I’d remember not to go out that way, if nothing else.
Oh, well. Such is life.
And what an exciting life it has been the past couple of days! That, at least, I remember.
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Pat Bertram is the author of Grief: The Inside Story – A Guide to Surviving the Loss of a Loved One. “Grief: The Inside Story is perfect and that is not hyperbole! It is exactly what folk who are grieving need to read.” –Leesa Healy, RN, GDAS GDAT, Emotional/Mental Health Therapist & Educator.
Before I bought this house, before I even considered the possibility of buying a house, I’d planned one last epic adventure with what was left of my savings. I was going to go on a year-long road trip, camping out at the various national parks, staying as long as I could at each (two weeks, generally) before moving on to the next one. I’d planned to go south for the winter, north for the summer, and I thought I could stay in motels or with friends when I got tired of being out in the weather.
Bertram's Blog 