"Excuse me but you have something stuck to the back of your pants."
Immediately my hands flew to try and find that something but no such luck. And that's how it came to be that a complete stranger delicately removed a sticky bit of paper stuck to my butt then carried on her way, saying over her shoulder, "I'm sorry I had to do that but if it was me I'd want to know."
Yep, me too.
I was going for a walk on my lunch break and she was a grounds keeper, trained to notice anything out of place. Just happened to be a bit further off the ground, that's all. Although gravity is doing its work there, too, I'm afraid.
And I don't know why I write about it other than I'm glad I can take stuff like that in my stride. I didn't always.
I've had the opportunity in the last week to tell quite a few people that there is precious little worth getting all worked up about. I swear that the older I get the smaller that list gets, too. Last night the phone rang after midnight. Groggily I ran to answer it, wondering if something had happened to a loved one. I forgot I was on the phone list for our district and on the other end of the line was someone reaching out their hand for help. Later, when I crawled back into bed, worried that the break in my sleep would mean no sleep for hours, dearest one said with a bit of wonder in his voice, "You were just complaining that you never gets any calls like that."
Talk about getting two wake up calls in one.