I ordered something from Amazon a few days ago. This morning I got an email that it had been shipped and would be here by Thursday. Then I got another email that it was out for delivery.
It came to 3:30 and time to leave for sailing (early due to the dark nights) and I didn’t have a parcel. I knew it wouldn’t fit through the letter box but I wasn’t desperate for it so if it ended up back ats the depot it wasn’t a big deal. Off we went on the off chance we could have a sail and I put it out of my mind.
Usually I don’t have my phone connected to the net when I’m out as it drains the battery and I dont feel the need to be online all the time. But there was basically no wind and sometimes they send emails calling it off (to be honest there was so little wind I didn’t see the point but knew one of the guys I share a lift with would want to go see so thought why not). So I had my phone online and my emails set to sync.
We got to the hill down to the reservoir. You can see it at that point and it was so flat it looked like a mirror. Nothing was moving. We got to the reservoir and one of the other girls who does sailability was on the water but wasn’t moving. A kids session runs at the same time and none of them were moving either apart from one randomly swimming and the safety boat heading over to tell him that’s against the rules.
So we had a chat with a couple of others (none of us got out of the car) and then we decided to go home. And as we’re almost home my phone beeped with an email.
My parcel had been delivered to my neighbour, Lucas at number 11.
- I don’t live anywhere near 11 (number wise).
- I don’t even know where 11 is
- I’m 95% sure my road is even numbers only.
- I don’t know anyone called Lucas who lives near me.
- And most people use their back doors only due to where the car park is and there are steps down into the majority of the back gardens.
So it’s fair to say I was thinking that this wasn’t going to go well and getting my parcel back was going to prove tricky. I suspected they’d delivered Lucas a parcel of his own and just given him mine too without trying someone closer. Maybe they hadn’t even tried to give it to me. I decided when I got back I’d get in my powerchair and do a lap of my road and if I couldn’t locate 11 (as seemed likely) or I could but couldn’t get to it I’d call customer services. It’s one of those things that’s an issue when you’re disabled that no one else ever thinks of.
My friend helped me carry my sailing bag back round to my front door and there was a bright orange “sorry we missed you” card on the floor. I ignored it, I knew where my parcel was. Lucas (whoever he is) at 11 (wherever that is) had it. But my friend, knowing me and knowing that’s what I’d do grabbed it and read it. And seeing it said “parcel behind bin” she pulled that out for me too and handed it to me.
So it would appear that “Lucas at number 11” is no more than an autocorrect fail. It’s either that or he’s a little tiny hobbit living in a secret flat behind my bins.
For the small things in life worth mentioning but perhaps not worth an entry of their own
- I have several part written blog entries and a few others that I’ve thought seriously about but not posted. These may or may not see the light of day.
- This week is likely to be the last sail of the season. They’ve not said as much but given how early we’ll have to be off the water I can’t see managing the week after. I both am and am not ready for the season to be over.
- I have some exciting plans for the off season
- For the past few weeks I’ve been writing a new 101 in 1001 list. It’s over four years since I last had an active 101 in 1001 list and I think this is a very different list to the ones I’ve had before.
- Current powerchair mileage is roughly 135
- I’ve been enjoying watching the paralympics but am sad they’re over and wishing I’d made the time to watch more.
- Earlier this week I raised a small and tangentially access related niggle with someone. Good: they really got it. It’s not something that can do anything about but perhaps my raising it will prevent it happening again. Bad: I felt the need to start said conversation with “I know this is kinda bitchy but…”
- A friend from uni and I went to see Mamma Mia the Musical in Birmingham. It was excellent. If we’d been able to go on the date we were originally supposed to (I changed the tickets as engineering works would have meant rail replacement to/from Leamington Spa) I would have tried to get tickets to go a second time. But unfortunately we went to the matinee on the last day.
- There doesn’t seem to have been a lot of reading going on lately. Basically unless I’ve been on a train it’s unlikely I’ve been reading.
At CAB today we did some training on how to support clients who are appealing disability benefit decisions. What to do, what type of information to put in the various letters (for mandatory reconsideration) or forms (for appeal).
And the subject of getting dressed came up.
So we covered the need to check how long it takes, do they avoid certain items of clothing or look for certain fastenings because that’s the only type they can put on (for example I can dress myself but I mostly wear trousers I can pull on and don’t wear socks as I can’t get them on and my shoes sometimes fall off as I struggle with them).
Then someone raises the point of needing to sit down to get dressed. Someone else said “yes, because that’s not the normal way to get dressed.”
The conversation moved on pretty quickly but I was sitting there thinking “What? Sitting down to get dressed isn’t normal?”
I did kind of know that – I’ve seen many friends and family members get dressed standing up but at the same time it surprised me to hear something that’s my normal described as not the normal way of doing so. It probably shouldn’t have done but it felt like a bit of a revelation. I think I’d been kind of assuming that sitting to get dressed like I do was normal and it was the ablebodied people with their insistance on standing to get dressed that were the unusual ones.
I mean, really, why do that when you could just sit down somewhere comfy?! It makes sense to me. But if society wants to see their weird hopping from foot to foot and trying to balance as the correct way to get dressed I’m not going to argue with them.
I would so hate to be normal after all.