I told the body we were
going for a nice stroll in Silvertip and all I needed was a little help in
picking up some litter. That was met
with silence, which I took as agreement, so I got everything ready to go, and backed
the truck out out of the garage.
We weren’t even out of
the driveway when the left shoulder cried, “Dibs on the grab stick!”
“No way!” yelled the
right hand. “That’s my job! You carry the litter bag”
“When do I get a turn
with the grab stick?” screamed the left shoulder.
“Never. It’s my job and you’re too slow!” said the
right hand.
Then the ankles said,
“Are we there yet?”
I swallowed two Aleve and
crammed the ear plugs in my ears.
Once at Silvertip, we
started walking along Six Mile Creek where the river rafters defy death in
Class V rapids. It’s a beautiful area. The highway winds around mountains on fairly
level terrain.
After we’d been walking
for a while, the usual suspects started in.
“How come I always have
to carry the heavy bag?” sniveled the left shoulder.
The right wrist blames me
for giving it carpal tunnel syndrome, and—in truth—it’s right. So, it was no surprise when the hand started
whining about going numb began.
“Are we done yet?”
mumbled the ankles.
We weren’t done, not by a
long shot. Behind a guard rail where
the bike trail and Six Mile are adjacent
to the highway, we came upon a million little pieces of wrecked car and a
semi’s blown tire. What should have been
an easy 15-minute walk or less, turned into more than an hour. I dreaded going down the other side of the
road and finding more of this mess.
I was right to dread the
other side. Pieces of vehicle body part
were scattered all over kingdom come.
"I'm gonna be sick!" said
the stomach.
"Me, too." I replied. “It’s quite a mess.”
"No, I mean it. I'm hungry and I'm, gonna be sick."
"Hey, you had a Slim Fast
Cappucino Delight already."
"That was hours ago."
"AND a sandwich."
"You call whipped cream cheese
and ripe olives on one piece of Dave's thin-sliced Powerseed bread a
sandwich??"
"Just hang on. There are
mandarin oranges in the truck."
“ARE WE DONE YET!!!” demanded the ankles.
The
shoulder was in tears and the right hand, being numb, had nothing to say
whatsoever.
The bag was heavy. I needed to drop it. The left shoulder couldn’t carry it anymore.
Then we found the sledge
hammer. The sledge hammer that broke
the body’s back.
Too too funny. Here I thought that I was the only one who had such conversations with myself. Right now my right knee is very unhappy at me being body slammed while riding the Trans-Siberian Express Train from Chita here to Irkutsk. Patti to is part of this discussion with her many issues body-parts-wise. Sounds like a real mess. Was this a recent event or a long-ago accident? Good-On-Ya for all you do out litter picking. Cap and Patti ..
ReplyDeletePresent tense.
DeleteAmazing how our body parts start speaking to each other and to us as we get older. When I was younger, I was too active to have allowed any body parts time to speak. Now, upon awakening, the voices begin! You do a remarkable job doing what you do with the daily litter patrol throughout the summer. I doubt there are many younger people who could keep up with you. Cudos!! Patti and Cap
ReplyDelete