In my transition to becoming an adult I became not only self reliant but fiercely independent.
For those of you who know me well (and there are a few of you who do) ... or have endeavored to catch up through these highly honest musings (check out the blog from January 8th for a quick catch-up Bluegrass, City Lights, Cowgirl Boots ... and all that jazz) ... understand the whys and wherefores. How this came to be.
For those of you who know me well (and there are a few of you who do) ... or have endeavored to catch up through these highly honest musings (check out the blog from January 8th for a quick catch-up Bluegrass, City Lights, Cowgirl Boots ... and all that jazz) ... understand the whys and wherefores. How this came to be.
I am reminded all too frequently by my darling friends and neighbors that even when I am sick as a dog with beads of fever glistening my entire body and chills running up and down my spine ... or as in the past few weeks of this damaged right knee (which by the way feels oh so much better today so I think the sun shining into my home really has a magical, medicinal quality to it) prevents me from navigating gracefully, or at all, through the winding layout of my 160 year old home ... I do not reach out for assistance. Nope. Not even a "hey, when you go to Garden Street Market can you pick me up a ________ ?" [Fill in the blank with anything from a quart of skim milk to a small bag of peanut M&Ms to Charmin.] I can do it. And, do. Or be without.
But today I am stymied. Baffled. Been on the screened porch trying to maneuver. UNCLE. I simply cannot carry anything that weighs more than a few ounces or is fragile while hobbling from door frame to table to chest of drawers. I need my hands for balance. Not ballast. I need to ask someone for help. The indignity!
So imagine Deb's surprise this afternoon when I emailed AND phoned her at work to inquire as to whether she or her sweet husband would mind dragging my very heavy, overstuffed recycling bin to the curb in the still pouring rain and while you are here grab the 45 pound of Bailey food from the back of the car and bring it into the closet. They jumped at the chance.
Amazing. I could get used to this ... hmmmm, what's it referred to? Being pampered!Cheers to luxuriating on the sofa, cold glass of iced tea with a spring of mint in hand!
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