2007 — 9 July: let the healing begin
As I expect to be even busier than that infamous one-armed paper hanger of Ring Lardner's story today, I thought I'd get a jump start on today's entry by kicking it off yesterday, as it were.
I think people who know us would agree that Christa and I are, in many ways, as different as chalk and cheese. She, for example, builds relationships with people, knows the names and talents of their children, tends her splendid garden, keeps me neat and tidy and fed. I, on the other hand, toiled in a series of essentially introverted offices, spending rather more time with computing technology (which I kid myself I understand) than with people (who I know, generally, I do not understand). But who, I also now know, I can understand if I make the bloody effort and get off my fat arse.
What's different? Yesterday1 I got an object lesson in Life from that remarkable set of people, our neighbours. I wrote, printed out, and walked round with copies of a simple explanatory note about Christa (Her suggestion,2 by the way). This to people who in some cases (and to my shame) I have not spoken a word to in years — more bitter fool me, I assure you.
They were unanimously kindly, sympathetic, shocked at Christa's illness, and eager to offer practical help and assistance. And a very dark patch inside me noticeably lightened. It's a start, surely? I guess, their knowing how wonderful and happy Christa is makes them suspect I'm not really as glum and grumpy as I surely come across to people who maybe don't realise how cripplingly shy and inept I can be.
Life
Funny ol' bugger, Life, heh? <Ho-bloody-hum!>