So Cranky is on the porcelain throne for
his morning constitutional. Things are going smoothly, no backups, no traffic
jams, no erratic vehicles. The throne room is on the second floor of Cranky’s dwelling,
just off the top of the stairs from the first floor.
Suddenly there’s a tremendous crash
followed by considerable thumbing and bumping as some sort of disaster descends
the stairway. Cranky instantly knows what has occurred: the little woman, who has
a bad knee, has taken a tumble. And Cranky knows what he must do: go to her
aid.
But there’s the problem of his
not-yet-completed effort on the porcelain throne. A vehicle is even then coming
around the final curve. Should Cranky leap up immediately and go to provide
aid? Should he wait on the descending vehicle? And what about cleaning the
highway? Should the effort be limited to a cursory swipe? Should a full
clean-up be performed?
Cranky mulls over the alternatives for
some moments. Perhaps in his younger days he could have made a quicker
decision. But aging affects one’s decision-making ability. Indeed, after a bit
and no further noise from the stairs, Cranky begins to lose his grasp on what
the issue is. He recovers, however, and settles upon the cursory swipe. Then he
is up, out the door, and to the top of the stairs.
The little woman is lying on some soft
luggage that had been at the bottom of the stairs. Cranky yells down, "You OK?"
"Ugh," she replies.
"OK, let me finish up and I'll be right down," says Cranky, returning to the throne room. He is aware that the highway could use more than a cursory swipe.
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