The Lost and Loster Department

Luckily, I was ready with a camera.

I'm convalescing a bad ankle, one that I sprained sometime in my pre-journal days that I keep re-injuring and aggravating. The problem is, I live alone and don't have a car. I know that's technically two problems. It adds up to one problem: anywhere I go requires a lot of walking and standing.

For 4 to 6 weeks, according to my doctor, I have to put minimal stress on this ankle. The ideal thing would be to stay off it completely. That not being possible, I use a brace and walk with a cane.

So, this week, I managed to leave my cane and my umbrella on a Metro train and a Metro bus, respectively. It was second cane I lost on the Metro in a year. I tried to call their lost and found. Their customer service person, probably outsourced from some secret planetoid where aliens pay Metro to work, seemed baffled by the words "Lost and Found." He transferred me to "the garage." However, the only thing that seems to be parked in it was a single antique answering machine, probably as big as bus and with wheels because it worked on vacuum tubes. It definitely still uses reel-to-reel tape, though they splurged and didn't use an 8-track.

And I never got a call back. The answering machine seemed to actually be like that Ghostbusters' trap. You've voice goes in, but never comes out. Maybe they have Siri listen to it with standing orders to ignore (though I doubt they'd commit an iPhone to something so trivial as their customers). Or perhaps they've also outsourced the listening to Yrdel on the planetoid Rardod. Why not? Their customer service person did a helluva job directing me.

So, I bought a new cane and umbrella yesterday, something I can't afford to do with my budget this month, even though it all only $35. I did upgrade. The new cane will support three hundred pounds. I like to think in terms of expansion and growth, even on public assistance. With enough junk food, it can be done.

The extra metal in the cane turned out to be a good idea, an immediate source of great security today when a snarling dog tried to rumble with me. He wanted a part of me so bad he dragged his female owner with him. (Yes, I think the dog was male.) For all the world, he sounded like he thought I was Osama bin Laden back from the dead. Or maybe he just felt that way about cat lovers in general. The smell of feline meant terrorist to him. I shouldn't have blamed him, because I suspected that also NSA policy when the cat lover isn't a lesbian. Was I ever happy to have a heavier cane in my hand. She got control of him, which deprived me of ever finding out if the cane would have made a Three Stooges "PING" on the dogs head when I brought it down with all my strength. For once in the last month, I felt so smart.

To prevent another loss of my petty assets, I now lash the cane and the umbrella to my back pack when I sit down on the bus. Since distraction is a survival strategy for using mass transit, I knew I could only trust myself to remember 19 out of 20 times. It only takes one to break monthly budget again.

But the biggest challenge isn't walking, it's sitting. I have restless legs, part of having ADHD. I fidget and tweak the ankle without knowing it, then find after a few hours of writing, my foot is the size of softball.

But at least I'm otherwise equipped to heal.