I’m just a simple woman. It doesn’t take much to make me happy. God knows I’m as simple as a rock. And about as smart as one.
I have back problems. Enough so that I use a walker to get about. And I do get about quite a bit.
This past weekend I moved in with my son, daughter-in-law and grandson. I’ll not name any names here. That’s to protect my health and future well-being.
These are salt of the earth folks and the loves of my life.
This is a good and loving adjustment for me. I have lived alone for many years, but now I have to remember to shut the door when I use the little girl’s room.
There’s a thing, though. My family has an infernal blankety-blank high- end security system.
So, last night I got a lesson on how to arm and disarm the gadget. Well, they leave for work and school before me, so I’m gonna have to conquer the thing. There’s no way out.
All was well, wonderfully so, I thought. That is, until I approached the devil on the wall and told it I was exiting said residence.
It will give you the total of 60 seconds to depart and then it slams on the locks and shazam, the house is locked and loaded.
It sounds so simple even a “rock” can operate it. Uh-hum. That’s how it’s supposed to go. That’s without figuring in the “me” component.
With 60 seconds on the clock, I hobble down the hall making really good time (for me).
Then, it “hits the fan.” Both dogs — my Pug and their Coon Hound — rush past me and out into the neighborhood.
What to do first. Do I try to get the dogs back inside or take care of the alarm which is screaming bloody murder first?
The alarm has a nice woman living inside its innards. She asked me what was wrong. I told her, “Everything’s OK, I’m his son — errr…I mean he’s my son.” I think.
By this time, I’m totally discombobulated and not really sure what I am. It’s so time to herd the precious little mutts back where they belong.
Chasing a dog while using a walker had to have been the entertainment of the week for the neighborhood. Thank goodness, most people work and were already gone.
I’m finally on the way to work and this is something I know I can handle. My phone rings and it’s my son. He says, “Did ‘ya get the dogs back in?” I say, “Oh, yeah, it’s cool. Wait…how did you know about the dogs?” He says, “The security system has a camera. I saw you on my phone.”
What? What! Now, really.
I can’t get by with anything. It’s bad when you get caught by your son. Well, I think he’s my son.
DALE LILLY is Lifestyles Editor and can be contacted at firstname.lastname@example.org.