More Pain and Suffering or The Mail Must Go Through

Yesterday, Anne saw the mail lady on the street when we had finished our walk and she went over and got our mail. The mail lady said that she was glad she came over because she wasn't going to be able to deliver our mail since the sidewalk was blocked and the snow was too deep to walk across the front yards like she usually does. Never mind that all of the houses are also accessible through the alley which was plowed and people could get into their houses that way. I guess the mail has to be delivered to the front door. Anyway, after having said I wouldn't shovel today, I went out and cleared the sidewalk from our front walk to our neighbors house where he had cleared his walk. Our two neighbors to our left have young, strong men living there. We only have an old man who is getting stronger every day. I did that and made a path to the street where the plow had come by since the last path I made to the street. I came in and said "I am done shoveling for today."

I got out of my snow clothes and thought I deserved a drink which I was about to procure when the phone rang. Anne answered it to learn that another neighbor who lives behind us had been away during the storm and just returned home to find that her garage was blocked by snow and that her front walk was blocked by snow. I put on my boots, got into my coat, found my hat and gloves and went out to help shovel her front walk. Anne came out to help also. She was visiting relatives where they only had a dusting of snow. Where was she visiting, you ask? Why, Rochester, NY, of course.

I did finally get my drink.

Guilt and Pain and Suffering

They sound like serious topics and they are, especially when they happen to me. I think I am genetically incapable of sitting down and relaxing without feeling guilty about it. Two days ago we had a big snow storm from which we acquired about twenty four to thirty inches of snow plus drifting. Yesterday, I went out with my shovel and snow blower and cleared paths, our parking area and several neighbors driveways also. Then the plow came by and we did it again. When I was all done for the day I discovered muscle groups in my body that I had completely forgotten about. I said to Anne today, "Anne, today I will rest and not do physical labor." She agreed that it was a good idea. So I proceeded to not do anything physical and I sat down to read.

I enjoy reading and find it relaxing and informative, except, I also feel guilty because I am indulging myself when, surely, there must be some labor to do. In the past (pre-retirement) I would set about to do my chores and work and only then would I read. This usually had the effect of bringing on a state of unconsciousness as I sat in a comfortable chair with book in hand. Now, (post retirement) I can read anytime I like, except I feel guilty. So, today, Anne wanted to go for a walk around the neighborhood in the afternoon. We did and found that pedestrians are not provided for in snow removal efforts by the Borough, so we abbreviated our walk. When we got home I noticed that the end of our alley was full of uneven snow tracks and therefore got my shovel and cleaned some of it up lest it freeze and get even worse. Then we removed some more snow from the alley opposite our garage and then went after the snow on our porch. This is the part where the pain and suffering comes in. We were just about done when I said that I thought I should stop, because, in addition to the pain already exhibiting itself in my legs, arms and shoulders, my back was now beginning to complain about the workout.

I don't think I did any long lasting damage to myself, except that if my cardiologist ever reads this, I'm in deep doo-doo. I then came in and did some reading. Tomorrow, I think I should rest, but I may have to clear a path to the street in front where the plows piled a mountain of snow. See? It's not my fault.

A note about my novel. In case I didn't mention it, or in case some of you were moving or doing other things and weren't paying attention, my daughter and granddaughter got me signed up on a site that expected members to write a 50,000 word novel during the month of November. I got to about 10,000 words and then ran out of month. I haven't abandoned it, but am thoughtfully researching some points. I figure that if I'm going to spend the time to write something that long, or longer, I should try to do a credible job of it. Unless you're very, very good, I don't think you can write the great American novel in so short a time. At least, I can't. I'm sorry, please don't ask, but I can't reveal the story line, so you'll all just have to wait and wait and maybe wait some more.

Charlotte's Web / Bonnie

We saw Charlotte's Web last night at Two Rivers Theater in Red Bank. It is a childrens' story, but was well and cleverly done by mostly adult actors. It is a story of a runt pig that is headed for the chopping block, but is saved by the actions of a smart and talented spider. Speaking of talent, I am always amazed at how much of it there is out there. Of course, these were professional actors, but nevertheless, I think they have day jobs too. It just seems that you can encounter good entertainment in many venues, be it theater, music or whatever right in your own back yard.

Our friend, Bonnie, passed away yesterday. She was a lovely person, just turned 61, also talented and a well liked teacher. Lung cancer got her in the end. I don't want to preach at anyone, but if any reader smokes, I urge you to do whatever it takes to give it up.

Downsizing and My Own Phone Line

As I have mentioned before, we are trying to downsize in anticipation of buying a smaller house and moving. We set our criteria for bedrooms at three when looking for houses, but I am seduced by the houses that have a fourth bedroom. We don't need it, but... it would be nice, especially if we have family or friends come to visit. Plus it would be a good place to keep some of the furniture we have now. I did say we are trying to downsize, which means, in my mind, getting rid of stuff that we don't need. Today I spent almost the entire morning carrying boxes of Christmas decorations from our attic to the first floor in anticipation of decorating the tree and finding out what we no longer want. There are 31 steps between the first floor and the attic and I must have made 20 trips, at least. That's 620 steps and 620 steps down, which must be the equivalent of climbing some national monument or other. Of course, when you're coming down a national monument you don't have to carry boxes.

So now I have filled pretty much our whole parlor with boxes and bags and this is just Christmas decorations, a fraction of what is stored in the attic. It's a big attic.

I know that whatever house we buy probably won't have a walk up attic, if it has an attic at all, so we must seriously get rid of stuff. We have been offering stuff to anyone who comes into the house, but the piles are dwindling very slowly. Do you suppose that no one is interested in the treasures of a lifetime that we have been carefully storing for all these years and that none of it is really worth anything?

On reflection it may seem a sad commentary that I am now seduced by a room. None of the ladies of my acquaintance need have any fear. I have in recent years been seduced by tools, boats, toy trains, musical instruments and garden tractors, but I now have an assortment of all of them, except a garden tractor. I don't have a garden tractor. In my current state of affairs, I am down to drooling over the four walls of an extra room. Sad, but true. I don't even know if I will get the extra room, but it is looking more and more attractive with each flight of stairs I ascend or descend.

I also mentioned in the title an extra phone line for me. I rarely get phone calls. When I do it is usual some recorded message reminding me of a doctor appointment or telling me that my prescription is ready. Yesterday, however, I decided to use the phone to initiate a call. First I had to wait my turn while others completed their telephonic business and then wait some more while additional business was conducted. I then got my chance, but not without attempted interruptions and concerns that I was not listening for call waiting for a return call that others were expecting. Never was a phone call so fraught with anxiety. And, what was it that was so important for me to use a phone? I had to call to sign up for a new Medicare Part D drug plan for the coming year. My old plan had raised its rate from about $15. a month to over $41. Now, I don't use the plan to get any drugs. The plan has never paid a penny on my behalf. Anything I take is in the form of generics which I get directly from a drug store cheaper than I could with a plan. I have the plan only so the government doesn't charge me a penalty for not having one. The process is a daunting one. First you speak to a lady who has to read to you all sorts of disclosures and then you are connected with a robot lady that asks a series of questions to determine if you understand what you're doing. You are admonished to answer "yes" or "no" clearly and distinctly and not to make any extraneous sounds as that may cause the system to boot you out. Heaven help us all. While this is going on, I am cringing in fear that call waiting will produce a signal or someone will come into the room and make a sound that the robot lady finds offensive and that she will then punish me by kicking me out and making me go through the whole process all over. Well, I only have to go through this once a year (and you can't do it online), so maybe I won't get a separate phone line just yet. I don't need a phone to be seduced either. I can go online to Craftsman tools or go onto Homestead.net to look at that fourth bedroom.