All day I felt strange. Normally, I am busy. If I'm not working on preparedness related things, I am crocheting on my grandson's afghan or sewing or doing those pesky housekeeping chores that always seem to need attention. But not Sunday.
I was tired. I was sort of in a fog. I would think I needed to go do something but instead just sat there and did not get up to do whatever it was.
It was late afternoon before the fog lifted enough to realize this was exactly how I felt just before I went on oxygen.
I checked my machine that produces oxygen and it was running perfectly. I checked the plastic tubing that attaches me to the machine. And found a place where there was a crack. My apartment was being well oxygenated. I was not.
What to do. It is Sunday. I expect the company that owns the machine might have sent someone out to replace the tubing. But I needed it fixed now. The solution – duct tape.
I patched the hole with duct tape. Oxygen was now freely flowing and before long I was back to what resembles a normal state for me.
Whatever did we do before duct tape?
My point to this little saga is that stuff happens. Every day the likelihood of being in need of having something fixed and being able to get it done with one phone call is fading fast.
Granted, there are jobs that require professional help. But what about the every day things that need fixing. We need to know how to do stuff.
We are never too old to learn. And a good, strong application of common sense doesn't hurt either.
The Cavalry is not riding in to save the day. The more we can do for ourselves, the better.