I looked up services available in my area when I came in from walking. You see, I got tangled in my clothing. What was routine yesterday was a nightmare today. Since it was cold outside, I was putting on a third layer. The thermal underwear was first, followed by a knit top, then a pullover sweater. I pulled, but the sweater didn’t come over where it should have. Golly Pete! I couldn’t get it untwisted. I could see something was wrong at the front, but I couldn’t see how it had twisted itself in the back near my neck. My arms weren’t long enough to reach anything meaningful. I pulled and I tugged. It would have been ironic if I’d broken out in a sweat. The thought of going across the street to beg Shawn to undress me was humbling. Get a grip! You’ve GOT to do this yourself! Take a deep breath and start over. What a struggle to get the offending arm freed! Good grief! The back had rolled itself up, and the seam that should have gone under my arm was viewing the scenery from my shoulder. I couldn’t replicate that if I tried. When my clothes were on straight, I went out to walk about five minutes late. It was too cold for Joyce to be outside, so being late did not matter.

I had a long mile to think about what had happened. I’ve decided that if I can’t dress myself three days in a row, I’ll call Care Services for Aging Adults. They say personal care service is, “Assistance with bathing, grooming and dressing promotes independence, keeps vital routines in place and helps people age in place with dignity.”

I’ll think more about it. I don’t want to age in place – sounds like a treadmill. I want to age on the go, with dignity intact. That’s a big order when I’m laughing at myself.