Well, today reality hit me twice. And you can laugh—it’s okay—I’m laughing too!
The first reality event (and I’m not talking Survivor here, although I’m glad it’s on too) was at Target today. I had my cane with me because we were going to practice at PT, but I needed my wheelchair to shop at Target. No problem, hubby said I could try one of those electric carts. I had always abstained from the electric cart, saying I was chicken that I’d end up playing chicken with an end cap display or a shopper. One of those carts could take down a small child or a medium stack of Pringles cans! Plus...truth be told...I didn’t want to learn to drive one because that would mean I’m disabled and not just having a temporary recovery period from surgery. Surgery was in September and recovery was supposed to be six weeks. This isn’t that. I needed to face it. And face my fears I did—I mounted the cart and proudly powered up and down the aisles at my own pace, well...not exactly. At the pace of a turtle. Not my pace at all. But I was moving, and I was off my feet. And I was FREE! What a nice feeling. In my heart’s mind, the wind was blowing my hair as it was all going in slow motion. Well, the slow mo was right, but the wind was just an active imagination (for that matter, my flowing hair was a fantasy as well!).
The second reality event happened in the comfort of my leather recliner chair at home. For the past three days I’ve been smelling something DEAD while sitting in this chair. At first Russ didn’t smell it. I felt like my nose was fooling me. But I started lighting one, two, three candles. The sickening odor overpowered the spicy scent of “mulled cider” wax. I just KNEW something had taken up residence in our ductwork and expired. By day three, it was WELL past its expiration date!
So, I decided to take matters into my own hands. By this time, I determined a mouse had crawled into my chair and died. I know, you are thinking now I really AM losing it. You should have seen me tipping over my chair to seek a lifeless furry critter. I looked like I was wrestling leather! After the chair was tipped over, I found a little droplet of brown syrupy stuff on the floor. The CSI in me determined it was blood, but not human. At this point, Russ took me seriously and started helping me seek out the offensive odor. With flashlight in hand, a large mouse was discovered in it’s final repose. Then it dawned on me. My XXX-pound behind had single-handedly (or double-cheekedly) killed Mickey Mouse.
I’m sorry, Annette Funicello!
