I fell off the face of the earth last week. At least, that’s what seemed to happen.
Actually, I was alive and well and drinking coffee at Café Boutique with some of my pals. However, I wasn’t supposed to be drinking coffee with some of my pals then. I was supposed to be playing bridge in the hospital round-robin program. At nine in the morning. Not one in the afternoon, as I thought.
In my defense, we always play at one in the afternoon. Well, almost always. The fact that we were supposed to play that day at nine in the morning managed to escape my notice. So while I was merrily sipping my coffee, my bridge partner was knocking on my door and calling my name. Alarmed, she called my neighbor to see if she knew where I could be.
I have wonderful neighbors who always look out for me (they’re more than a few years younger than I and probably think I’m a bit doddering). So Good Neighbor took off from her job, checked my house (and I’m sure, in the process of her hunt, admired the Winnie the Pooh comforter that covers my bed, eclipsing the more elegant white bedspread that is pretty but not too warm).
Okay, I think that last sentence wandered into a nest of parentheses and got lost. I’ll start again. Good Neighbor checked my house. I wasn’t there.
She then checked with Bear Care, the daycare center at Seton where I rock babies for two hours most mornings. I wasn’t there.
I often walk laps in the church instead of hiking to Riverview Cemetery and back, which was my former route until a patch of ice last winter sent my feet flying into a snowdrift, followed by the rest of me. I switched to the church and liked it so much, I continue to walk there, even on nice days. Not only is there no ice, there’s no wind. And I’m sure my Irish cousins would approve, because they’re always saying, “Walk with God.”
Backing up a bit (you’re going to need a map to get through this column, I’m afraid), Good Neighbor checked the church. I wasn’t there.
I didn’t realize I was missing until I returned from coffee. I assured all those who had been searching for me that I was found. No need to send a St. Bernard with a brandy flask around his neck, which I’m sure would have been the next step. That would have been okay with me, but Ivy Scarlett, my German Shepherd-Husky mix, does not approve of other dogs and barks her head off whenever she sees one.
Since I mentioned my Winnie the Pooh comforter awhile back, perhaps I should show you what it looks like. Okay, you probably don’t care, but humor me.