The next, upcoming, necessary adjustment to life in the part of the world at hand (as known at present) is scheduled for no later than early Sunday morning when clocks are supposed to be moved from the hallowed Eastern Standard Time to Daylight Saving Time. That, of course, involves a lot more than just moving the hands of clocks. Meanwhile, yours truly has a new letter from social security (they of Medicare power) in full view. All was okay … except, apparently, in one or two little places. They need to be called.
Well, the mind is rather beset with computer and scooter. Practical aspects of the time change failed to kick in with enough speed. As the letter arrived Wednesday with the homemaker aide, had things been in a different order, it might have been realized clearly that a call Monday morning is a call after the staff has to get up earlier to go to work. As calls to the government take an hour, with the cost of the telephone being ten cents a minute, that’s six dollars gone if the cell phone is used. (There is enough pre-paid.)
Now, into this must be figured the fact that once upon a time (long ago) if nothing else, birthdays were a time for a special dinner. It was never an overly joyful time as Christians all around were being penitential and, in the very early years, paying taxes. As the latest birthday approaches, however, the seventy-fifth, it may be that the “special day” will be spent in part chatting with the government, if Monday is skipped. There are less appealing alternatives: a stay in the hospital, which these days includes bugs, for example.
If a part deteriorates, the rest is suspect.