Swatting The Fly

There are times, plenty of times, with this disease where get to the point that you just want to give it all up and say "fuck it". No matter what words you use, no matter how pure you are, no matter what upbringing, your sentiment will be thus. It won't, however, be the life and death decision. That one takes a lot more than an angry moment. In fact that decision is most likely to happen when you are calm and resolved.

The moments I am talking about are those where the disease has created limitations, which in turn create challenges which will ultimately lead to frustration. The last hour or so has been a prime example of how this works. First of all, I went shopping today, so I had groceries to put in the fridge and the freezer. I know things are beyond me, like the case of beer, a 15 can case. There is no way I can put that in the fridge; I didn't even try. I might try putting singles into the drink rack later, but for now, not a chance. On the other hand, there is the 3 pounds of skinless chicken breasts.

I bought the chicken to mostly replace the stuff Anne and I had in our salad last week. It was on sale; that helped too. I brought the chicken, along with a pound of hamburger, also on sale, in my basket home with me. The first thing I did was empty as much of the basket as I could, putting the chicken an ground beef on the counter beside the fridge.

In order to put things in the freezer, I have to raise my wheelchair to full height. I did so, with the chicken and the ground beef settled into my lap so I could put them in the freezer without having to drop back down to counter height between processes. The first thing I noticed on opening the freezer is that there was probably enough room to put the chicken in, up between an ice cube tray and the package of two remaining chicken breasts from that salad.

So I tried. I lifted that 3 pounds of skinless chicken breast as high as I could, which was not much at all. Then I braced my right elbow into position where I could use the other things in the freezer to lever my hand heavenwards, to the point where finally I could touch the edge of the holding space with the edge of the skinless chicken breast package. It was at that moment that the Strawberry Shortcake Cups and the ice cube tray beneath it decided it might be fun to shift sideways ever so slightly, just enough to block my entryway into the intended landing zone.

Thus frustrated, I knew what I had to do; remove the ice cube tray and the Strawberry Shortcake cups. So onto my lap the 3 pound package of skinless chicken breasts fell. In the process the chicken knocked the pound of ground beef off of my lap and onto the floor. I left it there. I wanted to get done with the chicken first.

So I took out the Strawberry Shortcake cups and the ice cube tray out of the freezer. In the process, I also knocked a frozen, premade Onion Soup pack out of the freezer too, down to the floor where it could happily keep company with the ground beef. Unfortunately, by this time and through all this effort, my arms were too tired to even pick up the 3 pound package of skinless chicken breasts. I let the chicken fall to the stovetop. So; time to take a rest, then perhaps try something easier; the one pound package of ground beef. I did the first part; I took a rest.

After a few minutes I started my engines and put them into full power. I picked up the one pound package of ground beef from my kitchen floor using my grabby stick and my alternate hand, an non-inconsequential process. Yet it ended in victory; I had the meat in my lap. Then, using my grabby stick as a slideway path, I slid the ground beef into its intended holding groung in almost one fell swoop.

Almost.

Did I mention that all the while I am trying to put stuff in the freezer, I am being dive-bombed by a persistent housefly who must have gotten in through a crack at the edge of the screen door. It seems Samhar is not bothered too much by these little buggers, perhaps a consequence of her being raised in Eritrea, on the east coast of Africa. This flighty little bastard just wasn't giving up, so all the while I am swatting at the fly. He attacked! I went to swat! Only this time I forgot that my grabby stick was in my swatting hand. The aluminum handle smacked onto my brow, knocking the grabby stick right out of my hands and onto the floor.

I looked for my other grabby stick. It was on the  dining table, the kitchen door blocking my path.

Fuck it! That was all I could say. I managed to close the fridge. I managed to pick up the Onion Soup pack. I left the ice cube tray on the counter where it is duly melting away. Perhaps I can make a Gin and Tonic before it melts completely. I put the chicken in the fridge, awaiting tomorrow when I will ask someone to put it in the freezer for me. The fruit and beer remain in the basket on the counter. Samhar will look after them in the morning.

As for me, I rolled out to the kitchen table, whereupon that bastard fly began once again to torment me. Have you ever tried to swat a fly when you arms can barely move!