Thank heaven I’m a relatively tidy person. Maybe not a
dust-the-vents-every-week kind of cleaner, but the bed is always made, towels always
hung up.
We had workmen here to measure my
kitchen for countertops. (Those I cleaned beforehand till they squeaked)
and then My Guy broaches the subject of grab bars. Next thing I know, I’ve got
two strange men standing around in my bathroom (which you access through the
bedroom) thumping walls and waving a tape measure. My supremely uncool shower
cap was out for all to see, but at least the toilet was clean and no underwear
was in sight.
I knew I had these hips for a reason.
They were very useful in supporting toddler daughter and then son while I was
standing in line, stirring a pot, or just keeping said child out of trouble.
They’re still proving their worth. It
was raining to beat the band yesterday and my purchase was heavy and in a paper
bag, and the checkout lady warned me to be careful. No way could this be a
one-handed tote to the car. Those three bottles of wine nestled just fine on my
left hip with the left arm supporting them. Good old motor memory – that skill
came right back to me.
I’m sure this will be a complete shock
to others my age, but I find this getting old process very annoying. I’m
learning to cope with unpredictable knees and I know not to look too closely in
the mirror. But the latest blow is that I’ve lost the ability to whistle, which
seems very unfair.
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