"It's so cute, and it fits so perfectly on top of your hutch like that," he told me.
"Well actually, I wanted to move it over here where the scanner is, and swap them." The scanner was a bit too wide, but we discussed various possible logistics for a bit. I explained that the reason for a swap was: with it tucked in the corner like it is now, I can't actually see or reach the paper feed properly. "I had to stand on the chair in order to load the paper."
He looked at my wheeled office chair. He looked at my knee. "You did what?"
"Oh, that's nothing. You should have seen all the crawling underneath, climbing around, and moving things I had to do to get it hooked up properly!"
He continued to glare at me sternly. "You did what?? With your surgery-torn knee?!"
I made a mental note not to mention that I'd actually climbed from the wheeled-office-chair to stand on the surface of the desk, in order to reach the paper feed most conveniently. "Well, I had to get all the cords run, things set up and loaded, you know..."
"You did what??!! You didn't mention this in your journal post."
"Well, I didn't want anyone to scold me.... I was very careful and very safe, you know," I reassured him earnestly.
He relented, then he apologized. "That's okay," I tried to tell him, though I'm not sure I expressed myself properly. You see, I don't really mind when people show concern for me. In fact I kind of like it. It reminds me that they care.
After all, it's the people who care about you, not your stubborn independence, not even your shiny new printer, that ultimately make life worthwhile.