It came down to a rather weird experience that gave me a metaphorical answer to whether to do what needed to be done to come to NYC for a summer camp reunion. I attended Camp Winnetaska almost forty years ago. With the support (literal and figurative) of my sister Meg Rudansky, I really began to consider making the trip-- despite my somewhat pathological attachment to Larry and Maggie and Geordie.
The incident that catalyzed it all occurred in February. And it was about straddling fences:
In mid-February, twice-- not once-- but TWICE within five days, I locked myself out of the house. The first time it was about ten-thirty at night, Larry was still working (late), and I didn't want to bother my neighbors. My only option was to climb and straddle my five-foot chain link fence and ease myself down to prevent any limb breakage.
I was successful.
The next step was a bit more challenging. If I could cram myself through the dog door far enough to enable me to turn the lock of that back door, I'd be in. Fortunately, I was skillful enough-- and not-of-greater-circumference-(enough)-- to wedge through this small-- you see, my dogs are compact 15 or 17-pounders-- opening. Thank goodness, I didn't have to saw off my hips. I was in far enough to open the door.
Then two days later, about to embark upon a lovely walk along the path to a local pioneer cemetery, I escorted the dogs to the car. I had some keys, but oddly, they were not my keys. So I got to repeat the whole process-- with my dogs waiting and looking bewildered-- in the car. Mission accomplished.
Twice in one week, I not only straddled that stupid fence but got over to the other side and did what needed to be done.
So the next day I booked my flight to New York, figuring that my "straddling fences" twice-- and climbing to the other side was a SIGN. Which is probably bull****.
Post Script. Later I discovered that Larry had opened the gate and had forgotten to close the padlock after all, so I could have simply walked in and not had to straddle any fences. Just another example of how I make life difficult for myself.
Jill-- with Maggie and Geordie ****ing their heads in astonishment. Are humans really that stupid?
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