Walking into the Pain Cave this morning, I greeted Trainer, set down my water bottle, cellphone, keys as Trainer began walking towards me when, all of a sudden he stopped, looked down and said, with a smile on his face — as though he saw something cute, "Will you look at that".
I froze. "What?".
"It’s a little baby lizard," said he.
There was much screeching and screaming after that as I jumped up on top of the nearest bench.
"Are you being serious right now?" said Trainer as I continued to screech and yell "Kill it! Kill it! Kill it!"
"It’s little, a baby" said Trainer.
"Size doesn’t matter. It’s a lizard. Kill it!".
To make matters worse, it was a white lizard.
Whoever heard of such a thing?
How many more ways can nature torture me?
Saying, "You scared me Shirley". That he didn’t initially know why I was screaming, didn’t occur to him it was because I was afraid of a baby lizard, Trainer got a broom and began sweeping the lizard out of the studio while assuring me he was not going to sweep it towards me, but rather towards the open door.
A bookcase was positioned in such a way that I couldn’t see the floor in the door area, so I didn’t believe Trainer when he said the lizard was gone, that he'd swept it out the door. I thought the lizard had eluded him and made it to the corner opposite the door, where Trainer couldn't get to it.
"He’s gone. I swept him out the door. I wouldn’t lie to you."
I eventually trusted putting my feet back on the studio floor, got down to working out, with Trainer continuing to say he thought I was joking at first until he saw how wide and wild my eyes looked when I was perched up on the bench.
"I thought you were gantsa, could handle anything".
"Not creepy crawlies", said I.
So, anyway, today's workout was once again the ladder. Only this time Trainer said he was going to push me a little and had me hop sideways, instructing to get my knees up high as I went along.
This was as high as I could get 'em.
Not my best work, and later this afternoon, at bingo, I became aware my right hip was aching. It feels a bit out of alignment. Not sufficient for a visit to the acupuncturist, but enough to require soaking in a hot tub and some yoga stretches.
I don't think I'll be engaging in any future knees up sideways hopping again.
Walking into the Community Room this afternoon, I saw the refrigerator had a big old "STAFF ONLY" sign on it.
Logic tells me the words "Community Room" signifies a room set aside for the community of residents — our kitchen, our refrigerator for our events. But unless and until someone of authority, someone with power who actually gives a damn comes along that we can complain to, there’s not a thing us seniors can do but work around management.
Shadow — the resident that caused my former friend The Seer, now deceased, to turn on all of us, said we should unplug the refrigerator or cut the cord.
I actually like that suggestion of sabotage, but reminded him of the kitchen’s video surveillance system.
Curses, foiled again.