Death goes empty-handed

Because I could not stop for Death, He kindly stopped for me.

Twice this evening actually. But because I am not very comfortable with people I don't know, I sent him on his way alone.

He first visited my room in the new house. I was getting up from my chaise to enjoy the Valentine's dinner of breakfast. I put my feet carefully on the floor and then tipped forward. My head hit the floor with what I thought was a ear-splitting crack.

Claren was disturbed. She kept walking around and over to me then to the door then back.

I figured I better call for my sister to let her know I was alive after the huge crash. All I wanted to do was hold my head and roll around in the fetal position for a while. But I didn't. I was OK; my brain just got a little sloshed.

After my brother-in-law got me back to my chair, I enjoyed the breakfast dinner and decided to take Claren for a walk. I was on my own for the walk because Mom was out.

Claren has a favorite spot to poop, near a light and a driveway so I can get into the grass easily and pick it up.

Unfortunately, the favored spot is right in front of the light pole where the ground is sloped and it is far enough away from the curb that I have to go into the grass to get it.

Every time I have to get it, I say to Claren, "If I die, it is your fault." Normally, I am fine; tonight, though, my tires got stuck after I had picked things up.

I was not stuck; my chair often does not back up but goes forward fine. So that's what I had to do, but that meant going between the light pole and the curb -- which is not a whole lot wider than my chair -- and on a slope.

That would be when death made his second appearance of the night.

Again, he was turned away empty-handed. I put my chair in a slow setting and carefully yet easily rounded the light pole.

What next?