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Eww. A less than pleasant adventure in the park.
There's a park not too far from my house. Nice place. There are woods, a lake, places for various sports, etc. The section by the lake is supposed to be closed from dusk 'til dawn, though the rest of the park is reasonably open and well-lit. There's no gate or anything. Just a little sign by one end of the path.
In the past, from time to time, I've ignored that. Like I said, the rest is well-lit. And it's quiet and peaceful. Grab a flashlight for that one little section, and it can be a pleasant walk.
Tonight, I decided to stick to the rules. Took a short walk with the dog during the wee hours. Then, after my last post, I had time and energy to burn and, surprisingly enough, the sun was well up by 5:30. So, shortly before 6, I took the dog to the park.
A little nippy, but pleasant. And the morning mist over the lake, framed between the trees, was very beautiful.
But...
I noticed something underneath our favorite bench. A small, square pouch that had been ripped open and left on the ground. I looked closer. My hunch proved unfortunately correct. The little pouch, torn almost completely in half, had the word "Trojan" boldly emblazoned on it.
Well, at least the area otherwise seemed clean. Bench looked normal. I didn't see anyone or anything else around. And it was just the wrapper.
Guess what I found about 20-30 feet away, under the next bench.
Eww. So glad I didn't go earlier.
Walk was otherwise nice enough. When I got back, I found Mom awake. She gets up in the middle of the night a fair amount these days, unfortunately. While we were gone, she'd checked on Grandpa, whose room is on the first floor, not too far from the kitchen.
Turns out he'd been lying awake in bed for about an hour in the middle of the night because of the cooking smells. Even though his door was closed. Even though fresh air from the A/C was blowing into the vents in his room. Even though he sleeps with an oxygen tube up his nose. Even though I'd cooked with the stove's exhaust fan (which vents to the outdoors) on for most of the time. Even though he's 100 years old (give or take a year or so) and he's legally blind, often needs us to raise our voices even with the hearing aids in, has trouble feeling things, and lately seems not to be tasting things sharply or quite right. Mind's still pretty sharp, though. And, apparantly, so is his sense of smell. Oops.
P.S. Don't know how many people other than![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
stellar_dust will care, but must remember to buy myself a copy of this book. Not gonna preorder just now, though, so leaving this link here to (hopefully) remind myself later.
In the past, from time to time, I've ignored that. Like I said, the rest is well-lit. And it's quiet and peaceful. Grab a flashlight for that one little section, and it can be a pleasant walk.
Tonight, I decided to stick to the rules. Took a short walk with the dog during the wee hours. Then, after my last post, I had time and energy to burn and, surprisingly enough, the sun was well up by 5:30. So, shortly before 6, I took the dog to the park.
A little nippy, but pleasant. And the morning mist over the lake, framed between the trees, was very beautiful.
But...
I noticed something underneath our favorite bench. A small, square pouch that had been ripped open and left on the ground. I looked closer. My hunch proved unfortunately correct. The little pouch, torn almost completely in half, had the word "Trojan" boldly emblazoned on it.
Well, at least the area otherwise seemed clean. Bench looked normal. I didn't see anyone or anything else around. And it was just the wrapper.
Guess what I found about 20-30 feet away, under the next bench.
Eww. So glad I didn't go earlier.
Walk was otherwise nice enough. When I got back, I found Mom awake. She gets up in the middle of the night a fair amount these days, unfortunately. While we were gone, she'd checked on Grandpa, whose room is on the first floor, not too far from the kitchen.
Turns out he'd been lying awake in bed for about an hour in the middle of the night because of the cooking smells. Even though his door was closed. Even though fresh air from the A/C was blowing into the vents in his room. Even though he sleeps with an oxygen tube up his nose. Even though I'd cooked with the stove's exhaust fan (which vents to the outdoors) on for most of the time. Even though he's 100 years old (give or take a year or so) and he's legally blind, often needs us to raise our voices even with the hearing aids in, has trouble feeling things, and lately seems not to be tasting things sharply or quite right. Mind's still pretty sharp, though. And, apparantly, so is his sense of smell. Oops.
P.S. Don't know how many people other than
stellar_dust will care, but must remember to buy myself a copy of this book. Not gonna preorder just now, though, so leaving this link here to (hopefully) remind myself later.
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...i clicked. all i can say is "hmm".
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