The Enemy Recliner

The pseudo-suede recliner has had a place in my living room for years. I relied on it through hip replacement recovery, back spasms, and became my bed when "the real McCoy" proved too uncomfortable for me to sleep in.

Spooky and I often disagree about whose chair the recliner is. My cat is quite territorial about it.

Of course, over the years the chair has suffered from multiple coffee and food spills. The stains are somewhat camouflaged by the light brown fabric.

What gets me about the recliner is that, occasionally, an ant appears on my arm. "Where did THAT come from?" I wonder. This happens more often when it rains, so I didn't think too much about it until yesterday.

Let me backtrack to mid-October. I was sitting in my usual spot when I felt a distinctive bite to the middle right side of my back. A quick check in the bathroom mirror reflected a bulls-eye bump. This confirmed in my mind that a tick must have been carried indoors on my clothing. Daunting visions of Lyme Disease or Rocky Spotted Mountain fever came to mind. I'm really good at scaring myself.

My doctor was quick to prescribe antibiotics. The wound grew to cover a third of my back, pus emanating from three distinct sources. This was so concerning that I had to wait a week for the wound specialist to book me as a new patient. At that time, my sore spot was covered by a 5" x 9" bandage. Smaller gauze pads wouldn't do.

This was when having a roommate would have helped. One can't imagine the contortions it took to position the dressing over the just-out-of-reach site below the bra line.  As my left hand held a mirror, the right held a comb to spread out and adhere the bandage to the far reaches of my back. AWKWARD!

The new doc gave me silver-backed padding and a slew of other dressings to use. No doctor, GP or specialist, ever took a blood sample or hazarded a guess as to what exactly bit me. After a few weeks, I was told that the wound healed. What looks like a red bruise is all that is left to remember it by. Eventually, it will fade away (I hope).

~

I thought no more about the brown recliner until yesterday as I binge-watched Netflix from my favorite seat. My left knee suddenly became really sore. I moved into the bathroom to get my arthritis gel.

Oh, no! I had been bitten again! The pustule was red with a yellow dot at the center. A few hours later, the bite had become completely red.

~

So, I've come to the difficult conclusion that the old recliner has got to go. There may be an ant's nest inside it, which is gross enough to think about, but the possibility (or likelihood) that it may be infested with fire ants is the icing on the cake!

~

For the time being, I've ceded ownership of the recliner to Spooky. If it ever stops raining and I can get a neighbor to help me put the chair on the curb, that's what I'll do. 

Never in my wildest dreams did I think that a piece of furniture could betray me so. As I rub the swollen spot on the back of my neck, the depth of betrayal becomes evident. Bite number three!

~

How can Spooky look so comfy, curled up as she is? I envy her and only wish to emulate her placid pose before three pillows.

~~~

Directionally Challenged, Part 2

Sunday's Christmas party was even more of a challenge to reach than Friday's launch party. I overshot an exit by one hour. I had excellent, patient coaching by our host and hostess. I was on the road for three hours. By the time I walked through the facility's entry, there were roughly a dozen people left as the food was being put away. 

The Plan for getting home was to follow the car of one of the guests. When I saw a car leave, I rushed to retrace their turns. I couldn't catch up. Nobody else left the parking lot, which should have indicated my decision to leave was premature.

The Result was that I was successfully guided by phone out of the development. Guess you could say that I was only Semi-Lost.

It got much worse from there when I missed the turn-off that was to lead me home. After driving through endless unfamiliar woods, on the alert for deer crossing, I realized that now I was Really Lost. 

😕

Then I stopped at an intersection with unfamiliar route numbers. The routes were unknown to my friends as well.  Luckily, they knew how to use their smart phones to access GPS, a skill I never learned.

After the couple figured out where I was (in HELL), we exchanged calls back and forth to gauge my progress.  Their directions bypassed  Raleigh and eventually led me to a familiar town and main road. Route 95 South was just a few blocks away. 

🎆

The couple's empathy and encouragement got me through a difficult night. I am so grateful!

✌

Four pluses for the evening were that I did not run out of gas, end up in a ditch, or run over any deer. I walked into my living room at 9:10 pm.   +   +   +   +

To paraphrase the Beatles, "I got by with a lot of help from my friends."

Directionally Challenged

Friday 12/2/2022 

I have twenty minutes set aside to write before I leave. Hopefully, this drive will be uneventful...

Sunday 12/4/2022 2:10 PM

...unlike Friday's foray into Clayton for Christy Anne's book launch party. That trip was two hours of hell going back and forth along Route 42 and intermittent adventures trying out the side roads. Impatient drivers made their displeasure known as I tried to make three-point turns at several busy intersections.

Of course, I lacked the "phone a friend" option. I didn't have the phone number of anyone who could help. I stopped several times to read my pre-printed directions. Can't see anything without my reading glasses. All I could do was continue to traverse the main and occasional side roads. 

Around 6:45 PM, among the incoming traffic feeding from some unknown-to-me highway came a deputy sheriff who couldn't help but notice my car parked on the side of the road, emergency flashers going. (I was looking in vain for an opportunity to turn around). The sheriff pulled alongside my car and we both rolled down our windows. "What seems to be the problem?" she asked. I admitted that I was hopelessly lost. Then the deputy sheriff put on her vehicle's strobe lights and parked behind me.

Now I had to roll down my passenger window to speak with the deputy sheriff. I told her how I left early, determined to reach my destination in time, but: 

• My GD GPS wouldn't turn on. 
• It was dark. 
• Clayton had construction barrels lined up for miles. 
• I couldn't read my written directions without pulling over. 
• Major intersections and side streets lacked visible street names. 
• I was an hour late already.

The stress in my voice was unmistakable.

This wonderful lady deputy said I was only nine minutes away from the street I needed. Then she blocked all traffic with her car so we could both change direction. From that minute on, I followed her all the way to Christy's door. 

(Hmm...I never went THIS far west on the main road).

The party was in full swing when I rang Christy's doorbell. Everyone in the house was wondering why they saw the strobing lights on their quiet street. "My police escort," I explained.

While I missed the children's coloring drawings of characters in The Lower World, I enjoyed the delicious finger food and conversations with the party-goers. Before the event ended at 8:00 PM, I got Christy's phone number "just in case" I needed help getting home. Thankfully, I found my way home easily.  

Anyway, when I leave on Sunday for a Christmas party that starts at 4:00 PM, I will give myself an extra half-hour buffer to reach the daytime event. I'll be sure to enter our hostess' phone number into my cell phone's memory.