The other thing is--and remember, I'm no pal of the bitter old Vermontese cali primitive--trying to get up the stairs to the telephone was probably the
last thing she should've tried.
Having had broken legs myself, that sort of movement makes me grimly shudder.
Of course it wasn't too bright that she dragged herself along a country lane (but remember, the trauma causes one to not think clearly), although that was a better alternative. She was outdoors where people
might be passing by and see her. Nobody did, but they
might have.
If she had stayed inside the house, people might've passed by the house, thinking nothing unusual was going on inside.
I guess I'm intrigued why the telephone is upstairs in her home, rather than on the first floor. I assume there's a good reason for that, but have no idea what it might be.
cali has a problem here. She's anti-social; doesn't like people.
As an older single woman living alone out in the woods of Vermont, she really needs others to check up on her occasionally. But one gets the impression she snarls at people coming to see her.
franksolich lives out in the middle of nowhere, the nearest neighbor six miles away. Until recently, franksolich resisted the loud public clamor that he get a telephone (which has since been gotten, but hey, being deaf, it doesn't do me any good).
It's kind of nice being out here all alone, but it does have its hazards.
And so while I may bitch and moan about people coming here (especially during the middle of the night), on the other hand, I'm grateful that they do.
It seems as if, 24/7/365, there's always at least one person coming here about, say, every four hours of the day--the neighbor, the property caretaker, the neighbor's wife, one of the ranch-hands from across the road, the grumpy old guy, the
femme, the rose-gardener from town, Bible and Fuller Brush salesmen, Jehovah's Witnesses, hunters and fishermen, the county sheriff, the ancient elderly couple who own this place, the mailman, the milk-man, Republican party operatives, the senior business partner, state patrolmen, &c., &c., &c.
If I were to break my leg out here again, I'd do just what I'd done the last time.
I'd sit and wait. Inevitably, in four hours or less, someone will come by.
The bitter old Vermontese cali primitive, being an older woman living alone out in the middle of nowhere, needs to become more social, more amenable to human company, so she has the assurance that if something's wrong, help will come soon.
