Yes, you don't need to remind me that I'm crazy. I'm very well aware of that.
I had planned to drive Tubby's car to church this morning, since he had driven it late last night and was dug out. But it didn't stop snowing last night. I knew, when a quick look up and down the street couldn't identify his car, that I wouldn't be able to dig it out. I only have two hands, and shovelling while on crutches requires three.
So I decided to walk the five or so blocks to church. It wasn't easy, but I found it wasn't as hard as I feared. I was resolved to get to church by whatever means necessary.
As I walked I found I could put a little more weight on my ankle. Not enough to eliminate my reliance on crutches, but enough to help with my balance as I negotiated the unplowed streets and snow drifts.
The usual five minute walk took about fifteen minutes. By the time I got to the church, I had missed the readings, the homily, and the Credo, but I got there in time for the blessing of the eucharist and communion.
My wet crutches slipped on the floors of the church more than they did on the streets. (At least out on the streets I can sink each crutch several inches into the snow for some stability.) An usher offered to ask the priest to bring communion to me, but I wanted to go up the aisle myself. I may be an invalid, but I didn't particularly want to be treated as such.
I stayed a little after Mass to read today's Scripture passages on my own. Afterwards, one of the ushers generously drove me most of the way home. (His car couldn't make it all of the way, since the straights haven't been plowed since yesterday.)
And now I am back at home, still wondering how the hell I am going to get laundry done. I may just take a sick day tomorrow, since I can't see myself wearing dirty socks and boxers to work.