Tuesday, February 7, 2012

The best laid plans....

 
I was finally going to make a dent in the pile of mishmash boxes thrown together by paid housecleaners whose cleaning technique was "I put everything in a box for YOU to put away!" instead of putting it away themselves (or, at least, making a separate box for each room instead of mixing silverware from the kitchen with legal papers from the dining room with drugstore items that belong in the bathroom and clean socks that belong in the bedroom, all on top of the book that I had been reading in the living room, which I set down for a minute in order to go to the bathroom). 
 
I had a couple dozen boxes in the living room so that I could sit out in the sunshine on the front porch to work on the project. 
 
And on the second day of that project, I opened the front door to find a City Violation because I haven't been able to find someone willing to do a good job on the yardwork that's beyond my physical abilities.  There have been piles of leaves collecting for quite some time because the people who are supposed to sweep up and put the leaves out for pickup just sweep them into the corner of the stairway or under the foliage of the plants instead.  I get lightheaded bending over even once, therefore the idea that I am going to bend down repeatedly to scoop up these leaves is filed under Not Gonna Happen.
 
I promptly wrote a letter to the City pointing out that I am disabled, and asking if they can refer me to any program that provides yardwork assistance to the disabled.  I haven't been able to get any help on my own; maybe my City Councilman can finally make the right connection.
 
Meanwhile, I'm risking my health to do more than I should trying to appease rules that were made for the able-bodied that don't take into consideration that some of us aren't able to do those things.  And, no, none of the neighbors have offered to help; they'd rather complain about the conditions than do anything about them.  Hard as it is for those who live in small towns to comprehend, those of us who live in the big city do not automatically befriend our neighbors -- we make friends at work, not at home.
 
Once again, an important task I've started doesn't get finished because something else became a higher priority.  So now I have a half-cleaned mess outside the house and a half-cleaned mess inside the house.  And half-done laundry in the laundry room.  And a computer that really needs to go to the repair shop.  Most of this could be knocked out in one day by an able-bodied person, but I am not an able-bodied person; it'll take one full day out of my schedule to drop off the computer and another full day to bring it home.  Another full day shot dealing with the laundry. 
 
Who knows when I'll get back to the box-sorting task that I deemed most important.  Someone else's priorities have to take precedence.
 
 

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