I have been described as mainly stubborn. I seem to have trouble giving up. Even when impractical. If I can get it done, I do. If I think I can, I try. And I think that is a strength, a good thing.
According to dear olde dad, it has always been that way.
AMN has not expanded my repertoire, at least not on the physical side of things. I am not the man I was at 21. Or, 41 for that matter.
I was chatting with Geoffrey on the telephone last night. For whatever reason, I mentioned that I had a few weeds to pull. This seemed ridiculous to him. “You hire someone to do that sort of stuff.” As it often is during a pandemic, all of the interactions between Geoff and I have been virtual. He does not know of my disability.
While Francisco’s boys would be happy to do it, it. Is just another of those things for me. The same thing that keeps the snow shoveled, and the garbage cans from sitting for more than a couple hours after the refuse hauler does his thing.
Poor Geoffrey. And most folks it seems. They just cannot get it.
Why does he not ask for help?
Because according to my twisty logic, that would be surrender. Where is the honor in that?
The weeds got pulled.
Keep it straight. Brad