She told a story about her dad. He used to walk on his own but now he relies on a wheelchair because he is afraid of falling. He is less afraid of falling now, but the longer he sits, the less likely he will walk.
Not only am I sitting, I’m curled up in a ball slipping into a coma while surrounded by cat fur.
Why am I waiting for a hand to pull me out of the chair?
Note to self: get off your ass and dance.