A Bit of a Rant & a Fact about Pigs


The new cleaner started the other day and when I met her she said, “Yes, as soon as I saw you I knew why you needed a cleaner. You’d probably have trouble doing what I do given your disability.” Well, I was very indignant at this comment. The fact that I have hired a cleaner is because I am lazy not disabled, get it right! That and the fact that I barely have time to scratch myself and I am extremely itchy.

What bothered me with this assumption was that she made it based solely on my physique and the fact that I had a walking frame. It never occurred to her that (just like most of her other clients) I actually have other commitments which have a higher priority. One of them being work, which allows me to pay her!

She also seemed to be under the impression that my parents had bought me the apartment in order for me to “learn” to be independent. They did not. All because Mum happened to pop in while she was cleaning to see how I was, as I was home sick yet again. Isn’t that what Mums do?

I wish I had a dollar for every time she told me how great it was that I am “allowed” to live on my own. In fact, I live with Damion, my live-in lover (also known as my boyfriend). I wonder what she would have to say about that.

The irony is that despite her patronising she did an awesome job. Oh well, at least its extra motivation to go to work on a Friday.

Then, at the gym a few days later, I almost was stuck in the wheelchair lift (I had Cecily) because some bright spark decided to park their bike up against the door while I was upstairs doing my workout. Apparently they “didn’t realise disabled people used the gym.” Fair enough, it is not as if we might like to improve our wellbeing or anything.

People, enough with the low expectations towards people with disability. It is getting very old!

However, perhaps the icing on the cake came yesterday afternoon…

I was waiting for the lift of my apartment building. A be-suited woman, who I estimate was somewhere between 30 – 50 years old, carrying a file (aka, looking very important) and a fancy pants bag which I quite liked, almost barrelled me over as she got out.

For the record, I was standing well back from the door (learnt that the hard way). She just was not watching where she was going.

Then, instead of apologising, she just said, “Your parents must be so good” and walked off. What?!

What is up with people this week?

On a totally unrelated note, I am very fond of the phrase “sweating like a pig”.Today I found out that pigs do not actually sweat. Nope, they wallow in mud or water to cool off as it has the same evaporating abilities as sweat.

How interesting…



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