Upstairs, Downstairs
Robb has become much much better at negotiating stairs. When he first came home from the hospital, walking the stair up to our apartment took the bulk of his concentration and energy. It still isn't exactly easy, but I no longer have to shadow his every move, in case he falls. This is a good thing, as I always seem to have a lot to carry up or down the stairs. As improved as Robb is with stairs, he doesn't have the balance to carry anything other than a light backpack.
On the primary election day, Robb walked down the hill from our apartment to the local library to vote. As it was the middle of the day on a low-voter-turnout election, he pretty much had the polling place to himself.
(Strangely, all the other people who had signed in before him were all from our street, and on his way out he ran into one of our neighbors from the building. A voting block? Who knows...)
On his way home, Robb decided to climb one of the stairways that connect the streets on our hill, instead of walking four long blocks. Anyone who has been our house guest knows that this is a brutal, steep staircase. We're usually completely out-of-breath when we get to the top. When Robb told me that he had walked these stairs, I really thought he was kidding. Those stairs kick my butt. I only believed him when he admitted that it took something like five minutes to get up the stairs.
Since I went back to work, I'm not getting as many of the household chores done as quickly as possible, so Robb and I have devised some labor sharing techniques. I'll put a load of wash in the machine when I get up in the morning, and get it in the dryer before I leave for work. Robb will walk down the stairs, down the block, and into the sally-port to the back alley leading to the laundry room. (All the other tenants in the building including me use the back fire escape stairs, but they're too rickety for Robb.) He folds the laundry and leaves it for me to pick up later.
Today, I didn't get a load of wash going before I left, so Robb put the laundry in a duffel bag, and kicked it down the two flights of stairs to the street.
See?
We're adapting!
On the primary election day, Robb walked down the hill from our apartment to the local library to vote. As it was the middle of the day on a low-voter-turnout election, he pretty much had the polling place to himself.
(Strangely, all the other people who had signed in before him were all from our street, and on his way out he ran into one of our neighbors from the building. A voting block? Who knows...)
On his way home, Robb decided to climb one of the stairways that connect the streets on our hill, instead of walking four long blocks. Anyone who has been our house guest knows that this is a brutal, steep staircase. We're usually completely out-of-breath when we get to the top. When Robb told me that he had walked these stairs, I really thought he was kidding. Those stairs kick my butt. I only believed him when he admitted that it took something like five minutes to get up the stairs.
Since I went back to work, I'm not getting as many of the household chores done as quickly as possible, so Robb and I have devised some labor sharing techniques. I'll put a load of wash in the machine when I get up in the morning, and get it in the dryer before I leave for work. Robb will walk down the stairs, down the block, and into the sally-port to the back alley leading to the laundry room. (All the other tenants in the building including me use the back fire escape stairs, but they're too rickety for Robb.) He folds the laundry and leaves it for me to pick up later.
Today, I didn't get a load of wash going before I left, so Robb put the laundry in a duffel bag, and kicked it down the two flights of stairs to the street.
See?
We're adapting!
Comments
Bandaid
Our cats have since developed a nervous tic.
I used to live on the second floor of a place in Baltimore, and the laundry was literally out my back door and across the alley. I rigged up a strong clothes line with a pulley system, and used to hook my bag of dirty laundry to it and let it fly down across the backyard, where it was timed to drop off the line right inside the yard gate. I would the go down, unlock the gate, and take the bag of dirty unmentionables to the laundry. It saved me a trip down the stairs, but not up. I just figured that minus the dirt, the clothes were lighter on the return trip UP the stairs. Try that instead of kicking the laundry down the stairs. If your dirty clothes are like mine, kicking it just means something in there will bite you.
Keep doing good- Annalisa and Gary