Occasionally in life there comes along one day in which
things happen or things people have said gang up in your brain and pour down
the rain. This is that day for me. Even though I try to make my blog optimistic
and have answers for most of the problems that can surround a blind individual,
at times the brain just is not willing to “see” that optimism.
This day started out with my canceling a cab ride because I
realized they had sent a vehicle that could not get close enough to the door to
pick me up. “Surely there are other doors,” you say, and you’d be right.
However, a sighted person would not be willing one bit to walk the distance in
this large building to the next available exit.
Then I sent an email to a city manager of a city that has no
transportation available unless you drive a car. This has been an on-going rub
in my life as my mom lives in that town and for years my family and friends
have driven the one hundred miles so I could see her occasionally. She’s just
about ninety-seven now and I’m just about seventy-four, one day away anyway for
me. Though I can never express enough appreciation for those who have driven me
those hundred miles, who have never complained, and even acted like they
enjoyed it, there’s this yearning in my heart to be independent enough to at
least be able to touch down in my own childhood hometown. I can’t afford a
private plane, so here I sit while Mom moves into a care facility, and I’m
helpless to be able to reach her. When I was a child my parents drove a hundred
miles to the NC State School for the Blind, where they dropped me off, knowing
that they were not permitted to reach me very often as well. So the tables have
turned and perhaps I know just a little bit of what my parents must have felt
in those days.
So, Monday morning, let’s clean. Let’s start with the
ceiling fan someone told me was dirty. Do I like to be told when I need to
clean things? Sort of, but I’m only five feet tall and when I climbed on the
stepping stool ladder (which I shouldn’t be climbing on in the first place) I
found I couldn’t reach the fan even from the top. Next time I’ll ask that person
who was tall enough to see the dirt to do it.
Another someone told me there were spider webs around my chandelier,
and suggested I ask someone to knock them down for me. I asked three different
people who said they definitely would be willing to do that … when they had a
chance … six months ago.
The right thing for me to do with this is let it go, and I
am sure there’s a lesson here I’m supposed to learn about that. However, I’m going
to climb back on that stool, dust mop and cleaning cloth in hand, and fight
with those spiders.
As I sit here staring at the other projects I have begun, I
must wonder … is there not some better way to hang a shower curtain after you’ve
washed it other than those little stupid rings? Maybe they’ve changed in the
last several years and I just don’t know?
So this is just one of those days when, instead of shrugging
things off and remembering how truly blessed I am, I eat almost a quart of
butter pecan ice-cream. Now do I feel better? Yes, as a matter of fact I do. No
matter the problems, I live in the land of milk and honey … and butter pecan ice-cream.
