The Gravity of Age

          I’m balancing on one leg, one foot lifted off the floor of my YMCA shower cubicle, hoping to slip my size 10 hoof through the first circle of my underpants without getting the elastic wet.
Not only do I achieve this, but I succeed with the other foot, too. Next, however, are the very stretchy – think slingshot – knee length yoga pants I chose to wear. Again I beat the odds against gravity and age. Again I’ve managed to get dressed after water aerobics without keeling over onto the tile floor or departing with wet nether regions.

          Still, the whole process made me realize that I’m not just practicing my balancing skills at exercise class. Day-to-day life provides more than enough opportunities.

          The trip (hopefully not a prophetic word) to my laundry area in the basement comes to mind. Not only do I have to schlep the dirty clothes down from the second floor, I have one more staircase after that. Since I’m usually guilty of carrying what my mother always called “a lazy man’s load,” I’m usually toting a basket so full I can barely see over the top of it. Add to that hard basement

stairs, a cement floor at the bottom, and the coup de gras, my husband’s glass fronted showcase at the bottom.     

     Laundry day can be more hazardous than a descent from Mt Everest without ropes. 

          I’ve seen recommendations that people of a certain age avoid step stools, but even at 5’6” I still need help to reach those top items in the kitchen. I did have the good judgment to marry a man well over 6 feet, but unless I chain him in the kitchen (though I’d probably just trip over his shackles), there are times when I need my handy little stool. 

          Yesterday the two of us carried in a new recliner, balancing on the front steps as we maneuvered it into the house. 

       And weeding the bane of my existence, our hill garden, often requires that I balance on one leg while reaching across to grab that laaaast bit of Virginia creeper four feet away.

          So maybe I am keeping my balancing skills from atrophying through just everyday living, but just in case, I think I’ll also listen to the recommendations that I stand on one leg while I brush my teeth  -  even if it does make me feel a bit like a stork.