Take a back seat, Mr. Hillary

I have been at my parents' house for a few days, and today after work I faced my arch-enemy. No, not my niece Katherine; she is my arch-nemesis, although to be honest she is pretty great. My arch-enemy is the upstairs shower.

My FA set in when I was a late teen-ager so my parents never had to worry about me climbing stairs when I lived at home. Now, they have a ramp to get in and a nice big bathroom on the first floor, but sometimes you need more than a sponge bath.

I set out to climb my Everest about 5, just after I fed Claren. I set up a base camp to catch my breath at the top of the stairs and others at the entrance to the bathroom, on the chair outside the shower and fully clothed on the shower chair.

Then my mom turned on the water. After the initial burst of cold water, I realized why I had undertaken this challenge. Few things feel as good as a hot shower, and imagine a shower when you are pumped full of adrenaline and covered in sweat with a hint of stinky. It's awesome.

Getting down is no easier. I slide on my butt mostly. And my legs don't bend gracefully, so the sliding on the stairs often goes a little faster and bumpier than
I would like.

But then I am down. I could strut around (well, wheel around cockily) after climbing my Everest. I could sing my praises to the highest high.t

Usually, though, I am so tired I take a nap. But I dream about being the S---.