I stayed home again. I spent days under the lurch of sore limbs, head like a bucket of rocks and oil. Although better this morning, it was only in comparison. I thought of the expression “feeling human again” and reminded myself to question all set phrases because what are physical pain and suffering if not human?
Not to leave out the other animals.
After reading news the other day about the unfortunate who was strangled to death when her scarf, and then her hair, got caught in escalator steps, I dreamed I was a rescuer who carried scissors in her purse.
Escalators are one of my peeves, or rather escalator riders. Escalators were not invented to make you lazier, but to make you faster. You hasten your journey by walking up them instead of taking them as an invitation to stand still. You get a pass if your leg is broken or you are over 60.
OK, 57.
1 comment:
I hope you continue to convalesce rapidly, Sloatski.
Days short of 63, you'd think that my arthritic knees and I would escape the nasty glances of my alleged colleagues who look at me like I'm just lazy while they head for the stairwell & encounter me waiting for the elevator. No.
I'd also be an escalator rider. But I'd stand to the right to let you, my poetry goddess, pass.
Post a Comment