…half an hour before an appointment in your house finds you tidying up.
Not to make the house look better (although that is a bonus). But because it occurs to you that they might need somewhere to sit. And you basically never sit on the sofa. Meaning it’s buried
I use the sofa. I balance drinks, snacks and other stuff like my phone on the arm when I sit next to it in my wheelchair. And usually there will be a mix of books, knitting or crochet stuff, a fleece or two, an empty coke bottle or 4, sweet wrappers and maybe a wheatie on the sofa itself.
I use it. I just don’t sit on it.
The only person who is here with any regularity in need of a place to sit and not bringing their own chair is my Dad. And he sits on my big bean bag. Can’t ask someone you don’t know to sit on that. Or at least not as their only choice.
So once again I find myself half an hour before someone is due. Looking at the sofa. I’m thinking about the fact I have my manual, my powerchair and a very old manual in the house. And for about a minute I wonder about giving him one of those to sit on.
But then I decide that’s stupid.
So then I briefly entertain the thought that maybe he’s a wheelchair user as well and won’t need somewhere to sit.
But that’s a stupid idea as well.
So I do clear off the sofa thinking all the while about how ridiculously my needing to is. And thinking how this is such a CP moment. One only another CPer could get (or maybe a wheelie).
He came a few minutes early and interrupted me writing this. He’s not a wheelchair user and so I did need to clear off the sofa. Now he’s gone my clutter will probably make its way back there until the sofa is hidden again.
Until the next time I find myself with a few minutes before someone is due trying to unearth it once again.