I just read that if you have a condition that prevents you from earning $1,040 per month, you can qualify for social security disability. I feel certain that means physical or mental conditions rather than three children and a chaotic house, but I may still qualify under the definition of clumsy: "awkward in movement or action." That counts as a physical impairment, does it not? A quick perusal of my blog will prove that I have a long standing (and I use the term "standing" very loosely) history of falling into dumpsters, getting stuck in trees, falling down stairs, etc. I have left out many other times when I've tripped over our black dog in the dark, gotten stuck in odd places, or dropped...well, almost everything I touch. I am certifiably clumsy. Ungraceful, inept, and bumbling. I have become a danger to myself and others. Mostly just to myself, but I did fall down stairs while holding my 9 month old baby, resulting in a small buckle fracture in his leg. Certainly the government can see that paying me to sit on my butt and do nothing is much safer to the public (and potentially cheaper) than allowing me to attempt labor of any sort.
This weekend I painted our laundry room, and I had to scramble on top of the refrigerator to reach the corner of the wall. The dog sat on the floor below me with a very worried expression on her face. She didn't take her eyes off of me as if she knew no good could come from me being up that high. I don't know why she kept watch since she couldn't dial 911 if I did fall, but at least she cared. I didn't fall or even make a mess, so she wasted her effort for nothing. I was feeling very confident. In the past I have had a couple of clumsy girl painting issues. For instance, I hit my head on the ladder while painting the play room, knocking the tray of turquoise blue paint off the ladder and unleashing it on the beige carpet. That was 4 years ago, but I still hear about it from the hubs every time I even mention needing to paint. If I were collecting disability, we could afford to hire professional painters while I sit quietly and try not to break anything.
Back to the laundry room. I was feeling confident. It was hot in there with the dryer running, and being that it was late at night and no one else was awake, I just took off my shirt and continued to paint in my bra and jeans. Once I finished the last stroke and proceeded to wash out my brush, I looked down to see that my cleavage and formerly gray brazier were now a cheery bold yellow. I have no idea when or how it happened. Maybe that was what had the dog so worried in the first place. She may have thought if I was oblivious to having paint all over my chest, I was in no frame of mind to be left unsupervised. She's a wise pup. If she could talk, she would totally testify to my need for SSI compensation. I'll get to work on my application so poor Zelda can rest knowing I'm safe from ladders and self-graffiti.
This weekend I painted our laundry room, and I had to scramble on top of the refrigerator to reach the corner of the wall. The dog sat on the floor below me with a very worried expression on her face. She didn't take her eyes off of me as if she knew no good could come from me being up that high. I don't know why she kept watch since she couldn't dial 911 if I did fall, but at least she cared. I didn't fall or even make a mess, so she wasted her effort for nothing. I was feeling very confident. In the past I have had a couple of clumsy girl painting issues. For instance, I hit my head on the ladder while painting the play room, knocking the tray of turquoise blue paint off the ladder and unleashing it on the beige carpet. That was 4 years ago, but I still hear about it from the hubs every time I even mention needing to paint. If I were collecting disability, we could afford to hire professional painters while I sit quietly and try not to break anything.
Back to the laundry room. I was feeling confident. It was hot in there with the dryer running, and being that it was late at night and no one else was awake, I just took off my shirt and continued to paint in my bra and jeans. Once I finished the last stroke and proceeded to wash out my brush, I looked down to see that my cleavage and formerly gray brazier were now a cheery bold yellow. I have no idea when or how it happened. Maybe that was what had the dog so worried in the first place. She may have thought if I was oblivious to having paint all over my chest, I was in no frame of mind to be left unsupervised. She's a wise pup. If she could talk, she would totally testify to my need for SSI compensation. I'll get to work on my application so poor Zelda can rest knowing I'm safe from ladders and self-graffiti.
