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THE SENIOR HOUSING in which I live imposes quarterly premises inspections, always a bit of an intrusive hassle – part of the many punishments capitalism inflicts on those of us who are poor and therefore deemed unworthy of full citizenship. Usually I manage the preparation without too much disruption. This time however it's different – not the inspection but my physical condition (an unusual combination of simultaneous upper and lower back problems) – and it's just about all I can do to run the vacuum cleaner, much less the bending and stretching associated with a full-fledged dusting, mopping and general tidying-up. (The obvious question is why don't I do these sorts of chores more regularly. The answer is with my spinal condition – four damaged disks and deteriorative scolioses inflicted by a 1978 encounter with a habitually defiant, politically protected drunken driver [19 DWI arrests, all dismissed or pled down to nothing before the son-of-a-bitch nailed me], and now since maybe 2006 arthritic inflammation of every vertebra in my spine – any such activity is painful as hell. Indeed my doctors think it's a miracle I'm not permanently in a wheelchair. But by doing major housekeeping only once per quarter it's only painful as hell four times a year.) In any case this time the "discomfort," as the medical people like to call it, is a lot worse than usual. As a result, I'm hurting a lot more than usual, the cleanup is taking a lot longer than usual, and I find I have neither the time nor the inclination to write anything of substance. But I'll be back next week, Goddess willing and the creek don't rise. Meanwhile here's another of those test pictures I made last month, the geezer photographer with his geezerly old Rolleicord and an astonishingly sharp Spiratone auxiliary lens.
LB/14 June 2013
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