If you can’t eat it or play with it, just pee on it and walk away.
Wanna go out and play?
I’m a mystery writer–read my ‘about me’ page to find out more. Feel free to check out the excerpts from my Doggoned Mystery series and take a look at my favorite pictures of our garden and what was once our pond. The Bull Pen page has pictures of our bullies past and present and friends.
It’s not easy for me to find time to write where I am not being pestered by The Curmudgeon and his constant need to talk about what is on the TV even though I am sitting eight feet away from him.
There is where the need for peace comes in.
He doesn’t understand that need.
I wish I still had my second floor office. I gave that up when my sister’s kids were here. Never did move myself back there and now that room is a catch-all.
Maybe, once the attic is cleaned? If that ever happens. We need professionals for that job.
On another note.
Today his neurologist decided to see what she can do about getting him a stair glider so we don’t risk another fall. She’s also going to see what she can do about a safety analysis of our house.
Personally, I’d rather sell this damned house and move somewhere with lower taxes and all on one floor.
Today The Curmudgeon has an appointment with his neurologist. It’s a late afternoon appointment that sort of wastes my entire day since there’s no chance I can sneak out to the grocery store.
I need to get to the grocery store.
Can’t go the next day because I have an appointment with my doctor after the physical therapist comes for The Curmudgeon.
If I am not too late at my doctor, I might be able to sneak in a stop at the pet store for dog food, and then maybe a quick short list run through the grocery store, but I wouldn’t bet the farm on that.
So, I was reading through my manuscript of Doggoned Dead, that for the last few years I’d set aside because I didn’t have the heart or energy to continue, and there were a few places that made me cry.
That’s when I told myself, “Damn, you’re good. You made yourself cry.”
Now I am trying hard to get back to working on it.
First thing I did was to reread the whole thing…
I’m hoping I can get into the swing of writing again.
“Holy cow, are you three? For heaven’s sake stand up straight and use your core.”
“I hurt. My muscles are sore.”
“Because you haven’t been using them! And speaking of that, did you do your exercises today?”
“No, I’m too sore.”
“You have to do them sore or not. You keep this up, and I’m done with you. We can make nursing home arrangements.”
“But I’m sore.”
“Tough. You know what he said about if you don’t commit to doing the work. He’ll sign off on you.”
Later, I heard him upstairs doing something after he went up to go to bed. I went up and caught him doing some of his exercises.
Listening to Lucy snore in The Curmudgeon’s chair. She is all snuggled in with her Ted 2 blanket. If I give her the blanket she doesn’t lick her feet.
This is Ted 1 I don’t have a pic of Ted 2.
2:30 a.m. The paramedics were here again. To get him off the floor and back into his bed.
I have reached the end of my rope. My back is killing me because, once again, I was just dumb enough to try to help him up.
Later during the day, he spent most of the day in bed, I discovered that he’d screwed up his pills. Taking too many of two of them. Now he’s down to where he only gets his pills when and as I give them to him.
Also I had to drag my poor neighbor out to get The Curmudgeon back into his bed for a third time.
Yep, I’m done. If I could figure out a way financially to get the fuck out of here, I’d be gone tomorrow.
As it is, I am stuck here for now.
Six-thirty this morning he woke me with his moaning and groaning. I go upstairs to find him on the floor between the bed and the door. No way I could get him up and no way was I going to knock on neighbors’ doors for help.
I called 911 again. I hate calling them. The paramedics showed up and promptly got him back into his bed.
Next came the detective work on my part as to why the hell he was down in the first place. It didn’t take long to discover that he had NOT taken his night time medications.
Not a one.
His pain meds, his anti seizure meds, his meds for his jumping legs, his meds that help him walk, etc….Not. One.
Yep, I can tell you why he was on the floor.
I’ve been up since 6:30. I couldn’t get back to sleep and am now too wired to fall asleep.
One of my favorite Dr. Who adventures is the one where he and Amy go visit Vincent Van Gogh. It is delightful.
I am looking forward to the new doctor. It’s exciting that this time Dr. Who will be a woman.