I was just stretched out on the sofa in a little nap adventure when I decided to reach over and grab something on the coffee table. I didn’t fall off but my center of gravity shifted enough that I was tilted on the edge in a precarious balance. Now, instead of scooting back over, I thought I’m too lazy to move and I’ll just experiment with lying here. So I did and, you know what, I did not slip or slowly lean farther into a pre-falling position. It was as if I had velcro holding me right in place.

So then I start thinking about mountain climbers who rig hammocks and maybe a little tent-like wind protection on the sheer wall of the mountain, cliff, whatever you want to call it. “Place for potential falling” would be my name for it if I were an Indian and inclined to name things by description.

I imagined hanging in my hammock on a mountain – they do come with hammock belts, don’t they? – and snuggling down in my downy sleeping bag. I would just pretend I were not hanging from a mountain. That plan has flaws down the road, such as, well, getting down – or up if I were still summit-bound.

I would not have any idea of going higher, because the only way I would be in that position were if some crazy guy read a crazy kidnap & hang someone on a mountain plot script and grabbed an old lady – me – and put me there. The odds of that are long. That’s good; I’ve had enough adventure for the day already – teetering on the sofa as I did.