Change of Age, Change of Venue

It was the day after the storm, and the PT (Physical Therapy) hall was deserted.  The PT instructor had only me to instruct, and he watched me like a hawk.  I was afraid my minor omissions would catch his eye, and then my forgetfulness did.  I forgot I was to stay at the last station until he returned.

When you’re old you no longer care about taking things exactly.  You blunder on peaceably.  And that can mean a confrontation with those in charge.  Luckily he had regard for my self-image and didn’t belabor the error.

I was able to do exceedingly well on my next exercise through plentiful attention to what I was doing, and I satisfied my instructor.  I’m still learning the ropes.

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