Here it is, Thursday, and I'm not having Errand Day with The Pony. It's me. Not The Pony. My knees are acting up, and I don't feel like traipsing across the parking lot to pay for gas. I WILL drive over to Sis-Town to mail Genius's letter. And MAYBE go in a Casey's for scratchers. But the bank and the grocery store are off the agenda.
Yesterday, Farmer H and I went to have our annual lunch with my best old ex-teaching buddy Mabel. It's a 30-minute drive. I was NOT having a good knee day. Not sure of the problem, whether it was the weather, which was bright and sunny, with temps in low 40s and dropping all day. Or maybe it was from Monday, when I spent two hours on my feet getting a meal ready for Farmer H.
Anyhoo... my knees were extra-painful, despite extra painkillers. I was gimping to the bathroom down a hallway, when a lady opened the door as I was reaching for it. It led into another hallway where the bathrooms are.
"Oh! Sorry! You scared me!"
"I'm really sorry. Here. Come on in."
It was a big wooden door, styled like a barn door, but with a long handle.
"No, you can come through. I'm slow."
"That's okay. I've got it."
"Well, I was going to hold onto the door as I came through..."
I went in anyway. This gal was pretty persistent about holding the door for me. I must have lurched too alarmingly for her. After I was through, she let the door close, and started following me down that hall.
"Are you okay? Can I help you?"
"I'm fine. I just have a bad knee. I'll be all right. But thank you."
I hate it when I get pity! I'm not mad at that woman. She meant well. I just don't like feeling different and needy. You know it's bad when total strangers want to take care of you.
Did I mention that I have an appointment on March 5 with an orthopedic specialist?
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