Mismatched socks
I have given some thought to what I can and cannot do, with declining vision. I come away optimistic. Sure, my ability to read is compromised. I will have to take care when choosing a tin of food from the pantry, but I doubt that there is anything really unpleasant on my shelves.
When choosing my clothes, there is (equally) little risk of a serious fashion mistake. Yes, I could end up with mismatched socks, but who would even notice? I have a lot of sweaters that have been carefully chosen due to colour blindness, so I won’t scare others. All good, right?
When out for a walk, I could end up in the local graveyard. Hasn’t happened, in the past, but I do like to plan ahead. Even on a very dark night, I might bark my shins. Keep the speed down, and even finding a fresh pit could be painful but hardly fatal. More of a surprise than anything else.
I’ve figured out what bodies of water are in the area, and I am too lazy to go that far from home. Or, I could bring the dog, because he is equally apt to turn around and head back to the comfort of home at the first opportunity.
Have I covered my bases? If we decide to travel afar, I will explain to anyone I meet that I am lost. Disorientation is just a side effect. Lead me back to my place, and there might even be a reward. Let’s try living before deciding that things are too hard. Remember those mismatched socks.
