Here I am . . . 60. Don’t feel like I’m 60; don’t often act like I’m 60 ( How is a 60 year old supposed to act?); just know I have a physical body that is ancient combined with the emotional standing of a teenager.
The car had an accident a couple of days ago. It was strictly at fault. The fact that I was an idiot going just a little too fast and happened to glance (seriously, no more) at the phone, was of no accord. Trouble is . . . it is the 3rd accident in less than a year. My family is having “serious talks” with me about whether I should hand in keys and take the bus in a not too public transportation friendly town. Besides which, I am a home health aide /CNA and have cases all over the area, almost all out of town. Some cases are 2 hours, some 10, some early morning, some not ending until the evening – how can I not have a car? Unless my very poor self can do a “driving Miss Daisy” kind of thing.
Then I have to contend with Social Security Disability. I work very part time – generally 2 days week. Yet there are times when I fill in for someone one vacation which seems to put me over the top of allowed earnings – not by much, but the totals add up. And as I have been exceedingly poor in Mathematics since birth (couldn’t count the slats on the crib until I was twelve), running over is easy.
I need a keeper. Just like the olden days when women sat around and embroidered – not that I could do that either. Its gross motor movements for me.