Monday Musings #347


Much to my surprise I received several comments – most had to be deleted because of foul, offensive language – about the state of my abode from yesterday’s picture.  Yes, the house is a mess.  Does anyone want to come and clean it for me?  Did I receive any offers for assistance?  Nope.  Big surprise?  Nope.

In reality I do quite well with my housework, and, if not for the help of dear friends the place would look even worse!  Has anyone cleaned a house from a wheelchair?  I’m just curious.

For me, there isn’t a vacuum cleaner that I can use from my wheelchair.  It would need to be cordless because of the lack of mobility in this body of mine.  How does the carpet get swept and cleaned?  A push bristle broom.  It works wonders, and it takes a long time and a lot of effort.  Now, add into this mix a bouncing, gigantic puppy and two very sick humans and what do you get?  No cleaning and a puppy.

I agree the living room looks “nasty” as one commenter put it, after saying “no offense”, which is always a nice way of saying, “I am going to insult you, but I’m going to do it nicely.”  I let the world see what I was looking at and the place reflected perfectly how I felt – and still feel.  Nasty.  Tired.  Exhausted.  Needing something to make it – and me – look and feel better, and until there are some antibiotics in my system I am not going to feel any better.  Once I am feeling better I can clean on the house.  It will take all week to get the housework done, but it will get done.  On top of the cleaning and the feeling better, I will also be feeling accomplished and housewiferly.

Some of the comments, the ones deleted, called me names, one of which is “crippled”, which has always been a fighting word for me.  This time it didn’t make me angry, or upset.  It made me sad because most of you, Dear Readers, know of my disability and have encouraged me through the years and helped me figure out ways around certain physical problems/hiccups.  Some of the worst comments came from some long-time readers.  I am disappointed about these comments most of all.

You want to know the really funny thing about all of this?  The dog toys scattered here and there and all of the torn up paper and the chair that has all of the stuff piled into it in order to keep Willie Fu from tearing up more stuff.  According to someone who came to visit me recently who looked around at the house and putting her hands on her hips, my house looks just like her’s did when her baby was two years old.

“You,” she said, “are experiencing The Terrible Twos While Sick.”  She then recounted for me a story of when she had bronchitis and her youngest decided it was time to take all of the pots and pans out of the kitchen and put them in the living room, along with a roll of toilet paper and a plastic figure as a drumstick.  “I just let him bang away and wrapped up on the couch.  He wasn’t eating the toilet paper and the figure wasn’t making as horrible a racket as a wooden spoon.  I was the only one there and couldn’t go to sleep.  I was miserable.  When [name of husband] came home the place looked worse.”  She laughed and I smiled.  Isn’t it wonderfully strange how animals and humans can resemble each other?


About Henrietta Handy

I have returned home to the mountains. No more am I "a mountain-girl far from home." Diagnosed with rheumatoid arthritis at 2 1/2, I understand pain, fatigue, laughter, joy, and love all while on crutches and in wheelchairs. This blog is just about me, mostly the writing side, but there are forays into so many different topics. I am married to a wonderful husband who puts up with my writing, knitting, yarn, with the love of a saint. We have fur babies, and one cat who rules us all.
This entry was posted in 2013, bad days, dogs, family, friends, health, I feel, life, marriage, NaBloPoMo, Nostalgia, pets, photos, pictures, the internets, WEEKENDS, wheelchairs and tagged , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

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