Agnes could not quite remember when life got too heavy. She was still strong when the children left, still able to stock up at the big box stores and wrestle large cartons and bags into the house. Not that she and Henry needed things in quantity, but certain items still merited a bulk buy. Canned goods mostly, Henry liked his creamed corn. Toilet paper disappeared quickly enough and Agnes suspected her son Trevor helped himself to a few rolls whenever he stopped by for a visit.
And then, one day she had had enough. Agnes walked away from case lot sales and jumbo-sized containers. Trixie, their over-sized mutt could just as well go on a diet, because Agnes was not going to haul one of those giant bags of kibble into the house ever again. Tiny bags, tiny tins. And, Trixie did not seem to mind getting smaller portions of the fancy stuff.
When Trixie passed away, Henry said, "I'm not down-sizing to one of them little rat dogs." Which solved the issue of dog food altogether.
Agnes suggested they move to a smaller place with less cleaning and yard work.
"I'm not down-sizing to one of them little rat cage condos either."
But then Henry, who had never down-sized anything in his life, suffered a massive heart attack, which solved that issue as well.
And thus unencumbered, heavy things cast aside, Agnes floated free for the rest of her life.
18 May 2014