It is day 12 of waiting for the body shop to complete reconstructive surgery on my car. 3 weeks ago, during a day of high winds, the resident tulip poplars hurled a few of their unwanted branches at the Earth, a sizable one of which smashed my hood, windshield and roof rack, in addition to creating several extra minor dings. (Its final flourish was to punch a hole in the garage door.) Luckily, as a no-fault event (unless you find accountability in anyone parking a car in a neighborhood where the trees are older than the oldest humans,) the repairs are covered by insurance, and I will suffer little out of pocket. Furthermore I have, for the time being, use of the SUV which used to belong to my dad, and which my mom has retained for purposes of traction during episodes of Maryland “wintry mix.”
So I don’t, frankly, have much to complain about, and today’s news photos of cars and houses swept into Godzilla-sized eddies in northeastern Japan do tend to put my bashed Subaru into perspective.
Still, I will be happy to have my car back. For one thing, I will get a break from buckling and unbuckling Jeff every time he takes the passenger seat, and reaching across to open the door for him when we stop. (The handle being trickily located under the armrest, and less intuitive than average. Not that intuition helps in our case.)
In the interest of gumming things up a little more, the wiper motor on Becca’s car decided now would be a good time to go wonky, so that we must now hope that the rain which seeped into the basement this week, and turned our yard into the swamp thing is done deluging for at least a few more days.
For now, I am sitting. I’ve got Japanese homework on my left, and The Power of Passive Investing by Richard Ferri on my right. A hefty cat who would prefer to be on my torso is settling for occupying my feet, and I’ve finished my latest Alzheimer blog for The Fisher Center. Plus, I had tea.
Oh, and as an extra bonus, Becca and I got in a trip to Whole Foods Market while Jeff accompanied his sister on a visit. Which means I got to skip this scenario I wrote up a couple days ago, which describes a typical visit to buy groceries:
We don’t move through crowds well.
For some reason, which I can’t quite piece together now, we ended up in Whole Foods on Saturday last week. Luckily only for an item or two, but--even for a couple targeted strikes--it’s not the best plan.
Lately I find myself, more often than not, with one hand grasping Jeff’s arm as we shop. It’s a bit like shopping while pushing an upright vacuum and a shopping cart. What happens if I let go is he stops. Well, some of the time. The other thing he’ll do is fixate on someone...almost anyone, really...and the minute that person veers off, Jeff is right behind him or her. So that’s why I hang on.
It poses a problem when aisles get tight. I don’t think other people understand why we have to be a double-wide trailer. Sometimes it’s not until you can no longer behave “normally” that you start to observe what normal behavior is. In crowds, it is (for one thing) this: A herd of humans with normal processing skills move, when necessary, like a school of fish. When they approach a constriction through which passing in a wider-than-single-file format would violate cultural space bubbles, they instinctively break formation and goosh through before re-grouping. Jeff can’t, so when a passage will only allow for one I find that I must thread him through first, while holding an elbow, then follow. It’s more awkward than it sounds.
Indeed. I’m going to study some vocab now, so I can beam encouragement toward the people of Japan, and think a couple thoughts that--if they’re tuned in telepathically--they might understand.
No comments:
Post a Comment