…I might actually personify “shallow” (today’s word prompt), because I just realized I get really frustrated when I can’t tell if I’m looking at an old man or an old woman — unless one of them is swinging a large purse, and even that’s not always accurate. Sometimes, he’s just holding it until she gets her momentum going. (I live across from an oil company. Old people, er… oldER people come and pay their monthly heating oil bill religiously.)
I know! Go figure. All the troubles in my (and this) world, and I get tetchy because he just had to wear those white socks with those tan sandals, and those tan shorts and a loose white top of some sort. I think it was a he. He was alone, so I couldn’t even guess based on comparisons. (And yes, I might need a life.) Anyway, it’s enough to make someone have a milk chocolate covered cordial cream-filled cherry way ahead of time.
Since I’m here bending your eyes anyhow, an update. DH decided a couple of days ago (shortly after I hit the wall and told the Lord I can’t even pretend to be upbeat, because He knows I’ve been at someone or other’s beck and call since I was 8 and am tired almost to death of it) to start driving himself around. He also decided to stow the walker and take up the cane. He took himself for a little test walk, a little test drive, and it only hurts to turn the steering wheel into a pronounced left or right turn. It’s manageable, and he had no trouble getting in and out of his work van.
I watched from the mud room overlooking the driveway, watched him drive off, and just went down to my knees. To say “Thank You.” For DH’s sake, and for mine. The Lord already knows all the whys and wherefores. The knee-thanks is all that is crucial.
The day DH came home, he had a phone interview with the Social Security folks regarding the last part of filing for his retirement benefits. The first check came in yesterday! DH’s feeling so much more at ease, now, as am I. And he’s come to the conclusion (since everyone asked, “You fell AGAIN??”), that he needs to stay on the ground, now. No ladders, no stair flight replacement. Terra firma. As the doc himself said, “A bonk from even a minor fall while on Coumadin? Uh, no. Don’t risk that, for all our sakes.” I don’t know how long the Coumadin needs to be our blood thinner; there is a noted DVT, so maybe for always, now.
As predicted, he wanted to move back down cellar to the man cave. I said I thought it wasn’t a grand idea anymore, doubly especially since a potential lung problem has made itself visible on CTs (that is some nasty air down there! Cellar must and furnace oil and possibly mold or at least mildew). There’s another exploratory PET/CT ordered for a couple of weeks from now, something that took him by surprise, and I’m praying the shadows into the strong Light, but it’s summer and he’s out and about, and neither he nor I are going to think about that right now.
Meanwhile, Ladies Toward the Oil Company, don’t go for that shortest of haircuts. It may be easy care, but it’s SO not you!! Your dad might’ve liked it, but your mom wouldn’t have wanted that for you. And guys, do not believe the reasonableness fallacy of sandals. No. Mandals was an idea planted here once when visitors came from the planet Geek1. They may actually be transmitting personal info back.. Seriously, don’t compromise yourself or potentially this whole nation; just get yourself some Tevas or Reeboks or Sperry Topsiders. Okay? Okay, good. TYVM. (No, that won’t help much for identification purposes, but it’ll improve my eyeballs’ mood.)