My enemy: A piece of land

Once again real life (and sort-of real death) intrude on my navel-gazing.

I had planned to write about how everyone but me is getting older, and it's not a good thing. Everyone else seems to become more of an adult, more mature. Me, I am the same as always. My nephews and nieces are about the only ones I feel older than, but that is changing. One is getting recruited for college. Lord knows, he will soon be doing things I can't imagine.

But as I said, real life interrupted.

I was out for a walk and was up near the trash can I frequent to toss Claren's poop. If a place could be a person's nemesis, my nemesis would be right off the sidewalk near the trash can.

There is a big cement plate in the grass between the sidewalk and the street. It doesn't go all the way to the street, though. It stops so there is just enough room for wheelchair wheels to get trapped. And all the grass around it is sunken and slick.

I got stuck there a few years ago and had to call Dad to come help me because no cars stopped to help me. Actually, one did but it stopped right as Dad pulled up. I didn't want Dad to come out; I wanted the Herndon police number so I could call them. But he insisted. I put the police in my cell phone soon after, but I did not have the police in my new cell phone so I was worried I'd have to call Dad again tonight.

I have not got the intricacies of driving the new chair down yet. It is a mid-wheel drive and it just feels odd. It turns real easily and tends to slide left and right. I am not quite sure what happened, but I found myself running off the sidewalk on to the big cement plate. I stopped before I went off the curb, but I was stuck with my wheels on and off the plate.

The new chair does not go back that well when it is in a tight spot either, so I edged it forward and then put my feet on the ground and pushed it fully on to the plate. From there I got back to the sidewalk. It only started sliding off toward the street once or twice during the whole time.

All in all, I rather be navel-gazing, even naval-gazing. I like ships.