Remembering

Tonight I was on the phone with my cousin, Jill.  She is my mother's sister's daughter.  She's my age - too near to 60 to mention.  Joe has no concept of a Bluetooth headset. Hell, Joe has no concept of a cell phone held to the ear. Whenever you're in a room, even if you're just talking merrily to yourself, he is the grandmaster of conversation. So whatever you're saying to yourself, or whomever might be on the phone, it's worthless.  What Joe wants to say wins.

So Joe comes into the kitchen and wants to tell me he's going to bed. I tell him I'm on the phone with Jill. Joe has no clue who Jill is.  Not even when I say "your niece."  Not even when I say Lola's sister's daughter.  This is the person that is as close to me as a sister, because we're both only children, and we're as close as sisters as each of us can get. He vaguely remembers his wife's sister and her husband, but there's no clue about their daughter.

After that, I hung up with Jill and went back into the living room and sat on the sofa.  Joe went into his bedroom and came back out barefoot.  He wanted to show me his toenails.  I said I see them.  No!  He wanted me touch them.  I told him thank you very much but I don't want to touch your toenails.  He went back into his bedroom.

He then came back out with an adult diaper in his hands.  He wanted to know which way was front. Sigh. I showed him. He left and finally went to bed.

I had the "Mummy" on the TV for Lola to watch.  When a commercial came on, I asked her if she was enjoying the movie.  She told me she wasn't watching a movie.  I turned the channel to TCM.  She's happy.