One of my usually annoying coworkers asked me to lunch today to one of my favorite restaurants, Ada's. One of the reasons I love Ada's is the chicken soup comes in these huuuuuuge bowls and I still have a cough. She told me about her long holiday weekend, including the man who kissed her Saturday night on the train, and she listened to me cough and fret about surgery. On the way back to the office, I acknowledged that it must not exactly be a party to be near me these days. She rubbed my shoulder and said no, I'm still fun to be around and it's OK. She was being so nice! I realize I'm a hideous drag. But I did sense it made her happy to be helpful.
I was touched, so I asked her if she wouldn't mind helping me out during my convalescence. I'm not supposed to do stairs at all, and there's no way to commute to the our office without them. The trains and our building are both stairs, stairs, stairs. I asked her if, towards the end of my recovery, she would take a day off to come out to my place, pick me up, and make the trip to work with me. A test run. She said she'd mark it on her calendar.
Sometimes people surprise you. I should be nicer.
These are the thoughts and observations of me — a woman of a certain age. (Oh, my, God, I'm 65!) I'm single. I'm successful enough (independent, self supporting). I live just outside Chicago, the best city in the world. I'm an aunt and a friend. I feel that voices like mine are rather underrepresented online or in print. So here I am. If my musings resonate with you, please visit my blog again sometime.
I think you're right--it made her feel good to help you. A trial run is great thinking.
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