TheBanyanTree: Not walking home

[PJMoney]

I was walking through the bedding section at Harvey Norman's down in
Berrimah, totally concentrated on getting to the computer sales section.
That was because, as I mentioned a week or so ago, my computer's hard drive
had crashed for the third time in twelve months and I was pretty peeved and
keen to discover what might be on offer that might guarantee greater
reliability.  That's a bit of a joke but I like to hang on to hope.

In any case, there I was, eyes front, marching determinedly ahead, when a
young woman I didn't notice but who was very close by asked, "Can I help
you?"  I was so startled that I nearly fell over.  Once my heart started
beating again I was able to laugh, and fairly hysterically too.  Shock does
that to me.  But my laughter freed everyone up and the young woman and her
sales colleagues joined me in a good yuck.  Yup.  Must be pretty funny to
see some old chook suddenly stagger and flap her arms about while going pale
and bug-eyed all at the same time.

That is not the first time it has happened.  For instance, a few months ago
I was sitting at the radiologist's office waiting to get my neck X-rayed to
see if something bony could account for the shooting tingling feelings in my
arms and legs.  I keep a purse-sized Bible in my bag so I can have something
worth reading to read while waiting for things to happen.  I also get to
feel really quite virtuous.  

So there I was, engrossed in the first chapter of Romans, when a young man -
the radiographer - who I didn't notice but who was very close by said,
"Janice?" (we're very informal in the Territory) and my arms and legs shot
out and I nearly fell off my chair.  Another good guffaw followed.

My kids and my husband think it's funny too; walk up behind me quietly, say
hello, and watch the performance.  So yes, I do have an exaggerated startle
response.  My mother has it too and I always found her sudden leaps and
staggers very amusing so I can hardly feel aggrieved now that I am the one
providing the sport.  Of course, the fact that my mother also does it makes
me think the problem is physiological and inherited and not just a character
flaw of some sort.  So I make no apologies.

However, it does limit me.  I read of Julie walking and walking and walking
for miles and miles and miles and I know I couldn't do it even if I wanted
to and even if the weather ever got cool enough for such brisk exercise.
That's because more than every second house in this town appears to be home
to one or more large, ugly dogs that suddenly leap at the fence, barking and
slavering as though they'd love nothing more than to rip your throat out.  

I could, possibly, learn to deal with that (probably by walking down the
middle of the road) if I knew that everybody owning such dogs always keeps
their gates shut.  But I know they don't.  Being repetitively startled would
be bad enough but I refuse to subject myself to being repetitively
terrified.

You're a fortunate woman Julie.  Good for you.  Live long and prosper.

Janice