ON MOST MORNINGS MY DAY BEGINS as I, moving like a slug, navigate the steps from the second floor. When I safely reach the ground floor I say a short prayer of “Thanks for getting me down the steps without falling,” and “Give me the strength to get the morning newspaper.”
I know that sounds a bit odd, but it is not as simple as you might think for me.
In an Ideal World I would open our front door, bend over and pick up the morning paper, and then go back inside and shuffle to the kitchen table for tea and a crossword puzzle. But I sure don’t live in a Ideal World.