Homebody

We had a pretty quiet day off. 

I got up, did my God Time, took my shower, etc.  We went to Walmart.  I bought tools and a toolbox for work.  I also bought a multi-tool for the house.  I had time to buy a pair of capris (I only have one pair and they are tighter than I would like).  They didn't have very deep pockets but I can make them work. 

I even had time to try on a couple of bras, buy two, pay the electric bill, and make my deposit for the health insurance.  I tried on a new pair of steel toed work sneakers and threw them in the basket.  We can't forget buying more diet soda, and, of course more cat food.  I even stayed close to my budget. 

All in all a pretty productive day.  Ron called a cab to go home. 

The driver didn't want to let us go, and kept talking.  We let him. 

I got everything into the house and put it away.  I took my medication (I'd woken up with a headache and waited a little bit on the morning pills) and ate a snack.  I went to take a nap. 

I didn't sleep very well and finally got up around 3.  I balanced my budget and took out the garbage.  I did a little de-hoarding. 

I still need to talk to the boss about the disposition of the Rowe food machine parts. 

I've had a thought in mind for years now (I've been blogging for a decade now).  It's about the wheelchair.  I always forget to talk about it. 

When Ron ended up in the wheelchair, I had some questions.  We would need access.  We would need a near-ground level entrance, wide enough for the wheelchair.  The house/area would have to have paths wide enough for the wheelchair, and a surface conducive to movement. 

I never, ever, thought about the ongoing struggle I would have with removing chairs.  Everywhere we go, save work, we have to move a chair out of the way so Ron can "sit". 

I never thought of that.  It is so frustrating.  At work, they have special tables that have a vacant spot for a wheelchair to roll up "under".  Ron chains his work wheelchair up in one of those locations.  The only problem we had with that was a very large woman, who apparently didn't fit in the regular seats, pulling out Ron's "250 pound maximum" wheelchair, unfolding it, and sitting in it.  We could tell because it had been moved. 

When Ron made a comment about someone's "wide ass" in his wheelchair, another postal worker objected and said "She's not that big".  Ron asked her to please tell her friend not to sit in the wheelchair, she was going to break it, and he needed it to get around. 

She tried to tell us it was a postal wheelchair.  We told her it was not, it was personal property and NO ONE HAD PERMISSION to use it. 

The next day, we found it moved again.  Ron began chaining it so it cannot be unfolded.  You have to have a key to the lock, open the lock, take off the chain, and then unfold the wheelchair.  We saw the chair moved, like someone had tried to sit in it, but it was apparent they were not able to. 

Sad we have to do this.  You'd think we could just leave the wheelchair. 

Anyway, wheelchair seating.  It's ongoing.  Everywhere we go I'm having to move a chair.  Worst of all are the places with fixed chairs.  The chair is fixed in place and cannot be moved.  Where does Ron sit?  Usually we can find a table (it's nearly always at a restaurant) that has a movable chair, I move that, and Ron "sits". 

I suppose it's not cost-effective to have a special wheelchair seating area.  So I keep moving the chairs. 

After the accident I was very glad we had moved from our third flood apartment.  I loved living there but there is no way Ron could have gotten up the stairs.  The stairs wobbled, alarmingly, everytime we walked up and down.  It was one of those "clusters of small buildings" apartment complexes, so it didn't have an elevator. 

At the time of Ron's accident, we were living in a duplex, about 1100 square feet, the largest place we've ever had.  I didn't need all the space but I do miss the walk in closet.   Every apartment (3) I had in Houston had a walk-in closet and they were all pretty basic apartments. 

Ron was talking about fancy hotels tonight, and said he wanted to stay in one.  I said it's not that big a deal. 

My Dad wasn't poor, and when we traveled we stayed in basic motels.  All you really need is a bed, a toilet, and a shower.  One time, on a road trip, I stayed at a Motel 6.  It was fine. 

I stayed at a fancy hotel before my niece's wedding.  I believe we spent 2-3 days.  It was very crowded.  See, it was a very nice hotel but they only had so much money, so they crammed 4 of us into one room.  I had to share a bed with two other people. 

The first time, my sister's friend slept in my bed "because she needed a nap".  I remember thinking I was the one who needed the nap.  My sister never took my illness seriously when I visited.  She would keep me up late, late meals, etc.  On more than one occasion I had to tell her "I need to eat, and take my pills, NOW". 

So, I had some strange woman sleep in my bed - instead of my sister's, which would have been more appropriate.  Then I shared the bed with my niece (not the one who was getting married).  That was fine, I was OK with that, but it was odd. 

I would have just as soon stayed at a Super 8 and had my own room, or at least my own bed.  But it wasn't my wedding, it was someone else's, and enough drama in there for a lifetime. 

So, I told Ron, I stayed in a nice hotel.  It cost a fortune.  The showerhead was lousy, no water pressure.  The water wasn't really hot.  Plus side, it did have nice sheets.  I used to work in a linen shop and I know good sheets. 

I think it had a fridge but it didn't have a microwave.  Did I mention a Super 8 has both? 

If it comes to a hotel I would just as soon stay at a Super 8.  They have fabulous shower heads, plenty of hot water, fridge, microwave, clean sheets, nice décor (to me), and are usually located near a good, low-cost eatery.  The one in Galveston is just blocks from two grocery stores and a Walmart. 

Now, if someone bought us a couple nights at a nice hotel (and I knew it didn't have bedbugs), we could take the time off work, I would take it, I think.  I would worry about the cats, who wouldn't understand (particularly Biscuit), but at heart, I'm just a homebody. 

I see that as a good thing.