The Challenge

A little over a week into my 6-weeks of “if you put any weight on your left foot, you’re screwed” challenge, I am finding that my brain is reacting in a problem solving mode. I will admit, that in the beginning, I was less than confident. Every time, I had to go to the bathroom, I grimaced because I didn’t want to make the effort. Friends, everything I do right now takes more energy. More thinking. More creativity.

The other night I was alone. Brian was at work and Bailey was down with his cousin. It was getting late. The hour of eight in the evening, which is the equivalent of midnight in my world, was approaching and I wanted my clean pajamas, that were currently residing in the dryer. After, texting and then calling my son in an effort to get him to come home, I contemplated my solution since he was not answering. So, I jumped (not really….it was more like an aggressive hop) onto my handy scooter and burned rubber. I parked it at the top of the stairs and thought about my dilemma. There were 13ish steps in my way. Then I would have to get from the steps to the counter where I would be able to open the door to the laundry. From there, I would hop over to the dryer and retrieve my freshly laundered pajamas. Then repeat the process to get back upstairs.

It sounded like a lot of work along with being a brilliant idea. Of course, most things in my head sound great. My creative ingenuity is amazing. The reality falls a bit short, however, and I really need to stop listening to that voice that says, “Come on. This will epic”. I managed to scoot down the stairs on my behind and once I got to the bottom, the daunting task of getting to the counter served as an obstacle. I could crawl or hop to the pole and then hop to the counter. Fortunately, my phone rang. Bailey was on his way home. In my head, I am hearing, “Abort! Abort!”. Probably best that I am not sitting on the bottom step when my son walks in, so I scoot back up the stairs, put my mode of transportation in reverse (meaning I walk it backwards until I can turn around), and hustle it back to my room.

I feel like my guardian angels spend a lot of time shaking their heads at me and drinking a lot. They really have their work cut out with me. Bless their hearts.

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