Tall and Short

Tall people don’t get short people. N now has a standing desk and he very casually suggested that I use his computer to print something out. He doesn’t seem to be aware that I literally don’t see the screen from my height because it towers way up in the air over my head.

He also keeps placing his power bars and my Tupperware in places where I have to jump up and down like a crazy bunny trying to grab them.

“You exercising, Mommy?” Klara asks when she sees me do it. “You an athlete? Want to do yoga with me?”

I know she’s too young for snark but it still feels hurtful.

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5 thoughts on “Tall and Short”

  1. I don’t bother with the jumping. But I am quite annoyed at being the shortest person and the one who changes the light bulbs, including the outdoor ones. Not to mention it makes drive-thrus for anything problematic.

    People are generally nice enough to reach for the frozen food way back on the tallest shelf or to put my carry-on in the overhead compartment. I suspect it’s because they don’t want to think about me climbing into the freezer door or possibly clonking someone on the head while jumping to put the luggage in (it would be a squat jump throw motion).

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