Oh, well, no breakfast for Joe today I suppose. He's up and about and, actually, out back picking up sticks. He was in his pajamas in the den when I arose. I set everything out to make the breakfast and waited for him to dress and put his teeth in. When he walked through the living room dressed at 10:45 a.m., I asked him if he wanted "breakfast." He told me no and that he'd be back. Okay.
Finally fed him his first meal at 11:30 a.m.
If it's not the lawn mower, it's the golf cart. About 6:00 p.m. he came to me and told me that he needed me to go down into the back field and get his cart unstuck from the mud. Argh! I finally got it back up here after traipsing to the very back of 7 acres through weeds up to my knees and water two inches deep. The bolts have fallen off the screws holding the cover on, and the cover was banging and flapping the whole way.
Sigh. Another key to be hidden; he can't drive it while broken, nor while it's so wet when he hasn't enough mind not to take it in the swamp. When I took the key out of the ignition, he went ballistic, and I went ballistic right back. Copperhead swamp runs don't improve my temper. He told me'd he'd whip my ass. I just told him to get started on it and walked away.
He hasn't followed me yet. He's busy rolling the trash can out to the highway and, I suppose, tightening the hatches for the night. He came in later and showed me how he'd put the trash can in the "right" place tonight. For a year and a half, it's had to be right at the end of the driveway, and he had a freaking fit one time when I placed it wrong. Tonight it is across the highway because "that's where they want it." I cannot keep my eyes glued to him every minute of every hour.
I have no clue when he moved the can from the end of the driveway to across the highway, nor what thought crossed his brain to make him decide to do it. It probably took him four minutes to get it across the highway. That's a long time, but that's the pace he moves. That's a bit slow to get across a highway.
Mom's been more feeble this week - needing more help in dressing and directions on what to do to proceed with life. Had to tell her how to put a shirt on, how to wash her hands after going to bathroom, how to get to bedroom.
It has gone from 60°F to 80°F in one day. I think the A/C went belly up while it was turned off in the last few days. It's friggin 78°F in the house right now at 12:18 a.m., and I turned the A/C on about 5:00 p.m. this evening. Criminy. First I'm going to ask the neighbor to look at the fuses. This house has the most ancient fuses of any house I've lived in, including our house in Harriman built in 1898. I can't tell if it's a blown fuse or the A/C. I'm scared to touch the fuse panel. If it's the A/C, damn, we may have to take out a loan to have it fixed.