I was walking on my feet yesterday, mostly because those are the appendages closest to the ground, which makes it convenient. However, my testicles are competing for that job, but I can't imagine how it would work, walking on my balls, nor do I imagine it would be at all comfortable, but perhaps they have some as yet unknown functions. Mostly, I worry about tripping over them, but I digress.
Due to a spinal cord injury, my brain is blissfully unaware of where my feet are located in time and space, which requires me to watch them, lest they lead me to ruin. I've learned to note the location of water filled ditches, as my feet seem to find it amusing to lead me straight into them. The problem with watching my feet, guarding against such pranks, is that I cannot watch where I'm headed simultaneously. My feet take advantage of this and play additional pranks, such as causing me to walk into parked cars and run over small children. I'm trying to develop a mirror and a camera to halt such tomfoolery, but I digest.
I normally decide in advance where I think I should be headed, or pick a target, then plan a route to that destination that avoids water filled ditches, small children, parked cars, or any other hazard I suspect my feet would find amusing to see me fall into. I have more failures than successes, but one must persevere, no? My wife has suggested following me with a video camera, with a view to winning some money on ABC's "funniest videos", but I refused, knowing such videos would engender pity along with the laughs, and I cannot abide pity. I am a survivor, not a subject for pity, but I regress.
Suffice it to say, the bulk of my day is spent moving cautiously from one location to another and the bulk of my mental acuity, what is left anyway, is spent trying to avoid the pranks committed by my various appendages. You know, preventing my feet from leading me into a construction ditch, and avoiding tripping over my balls. BTW, I tried a ball sling awhile back, but it made me look like I had a poodle stuffed in my pants, and , although it did preclude the ball tripping, it caused more questions than I cared to answer, such as "Papaw, what's in your pants?". Such questions asked in public raises eyebrows, and the risk of arrest, but I progress.
The problem with perspective is, one can watch one's feet, OR watch where one is going, but one cannot do both at once. I need a VR helmet such as the pilots of F35's wear, then the days of my feet and balls playing jokes on me would be over. Then, I'd only have to worry about what my ass is doing when I'm not paying attention.