For weeks, the first thought that pops into my head each morning is a line from Springsteen's Point Blank: "You wake up and you're dying/you don't even know what from."
I'd venture a guess what I am dying from. Today, it was the wheelchair stall at work.
It is too narrow; they are working on improving it. But I won't be holding my breath till it is wider. There are a zillion steps before things can be fixed.
Making things worse, others continue to use the wheelchair stall, though they aren't in wheelchairs. This makes me sad. People who know a colleague uses a chair don't worry about using the stall. Once it is widened, the problem will only get worse, I am sure.
But my sadness is not the only issue. Twice today, I went in and found the seat raised. I appreciate that they raised the seat to pee, but by not putting it down, they are forcing me to venture farther into the too-narrow stall. I spent close to 10 minutes this afternoon just going back and forth to get in a position that was fairly safe to transfer from.
I am not sure there's a tune for me.