I like to think that I am extremely adaptable. Throw a change of plans at me and I will shrug, smile and say “no worries” - or words to that effect.
Except of course, that I am nowhere near as adaptable as (I) I like to think myself and (ii) as I need to be in the world I inhabit. Take today, for example. Mr B’s carer, the Delightful Donna, has been coming a little
later all this week, on account of a school-related change of timetable. Not a problem, for Adaptable Me. It would mean that I couldn’t take advantage of her early presence to head for the shower and allow myself some luxury time with a bottle of shower
gel and a cascade of warm water but I could gainfully use the time she was here on other fun activities. Like card making, or scrap-booking or even just reading my new book. See what I mean - adaptability is the key to acceptance.
Today, just to complicate matters, Mr B was expecting another visit from the Special Care dentist. I’d asked for this visit to be in the afternoon, so as not to interfere with
Donna’s presence which meant I had had to re-arrange my appointment to have my hair cut. This, however, didn’t seem to matter nearly as much as in the days of Lockdown when all the hair salons were closed and our locks grew ever downwards. Waiting
a couple of weeks for another appointment didn’t seem too bad at all. I trust you are all applauding my pragmatism and adaptability.
Except that the Special
Care Dentist arrived in the morning, not the afternoon, and at exactly the same time as Donna. They more or less arrived on the door-step together. You could say it was a little bit crowded out there. What to do? The presence of both was required - just not
at the same time. I admit that I was completely thrown for a long minute...
Until, that is, the Delightful Donna demonstrated that she is far more adaptable than
I am. She would, she suggested, take herself off to Tesco’s and do the shopping that she would have been doing in her lunch hour and then return to us. To say I was grateful for her adaptability is an under-statement.
The final straw came when I received a telephone call to let me know that the plumber who was supposed to be coming between 5 p.m. and 10 p.m. would not, after all, be able to attend to my leaking
pipes. No, not my own personal pipes but the pipes in the cupboard over the airing cupboard which have been watering the spare towels for goodness knows how long till I did a bit of detective work and uncovered the guilty parties. It wasn’t the most
convenient time to call, in the first place, but I was prepared to adapt, if necessary, by adjusting our dinner-time and recording “Who Wants to be a Millionaire” just in case a lucky person hit the Big Time while I was in the airing cupboard with
The plumber won’t be coming now until Monday evening so I have had to adapt my expectations. There is no firm promise forthcoming , either,
that my leaking pipes and I won’t be cancelled again. I can’t quite understand why I have to wait so long for a rearranged appointment but I keep telling myself that my leaking pipes are not a priority compared with the poor soul who has water
cascading from the roof. I know all about priorities because I watch “Ambulance” on TV...
There is no alternative but to try to be more adaptable.
Like Fagin, of Oliver Twist fame (who was, of course, excellent when it came to adaptability) I am reviewing the situation....