Well, we're in the middle of a heat wave that is a killer, and Joe wants to mow the yard. Y'all just have to put up with me venting here. The back field can get a foot tall. I DO NOT CARE. I am not going to mow it while it's this hot.
Today we've gone round and round about it. He wants to do it. He wants to ride the Bush Hog. According to him there's never been a time in his life when it was too hot for him to do what he wants. According to him he does too weigh enough to keep the machine going. According to him he's perfectly safe on it regardless of how many trees, stumps or houses he runs into.
With his pulled teeth, he's not eating well, nor drinking enough. He fell yesterday and today. Earlier in the day he came in dripping blood from a barked elbow. It's a bloody miracle he hasn't broken a bone yet.
He's having bowel movements in his pants on a daily basis. He's not got enough sense to clean himself well or the rooms up.
Folks, I'm coming to the end of my rope with Joe. I'm beginning to look for alternative solutions. I've tried to keep him home till he dies. He's becoming belligerent and combative. He refuses to give anything up - fighting all the way. He's making everyone around him miserable.
I can't continue to take care of both him and Lola, get their groceries, cook their meals, wash their clothes, clean his shit, try to keep him from killing himself and live away from my own home and husband much longer.
I've desperately tried to not give up these roots to Arlington. After all, my folks have been in this area since the 1860s. I like being where people know you, care and look out for you. I've never really felt like anywhere else was home. Yet, my husband is in Memphis. My son is in Frankfurt. My friends are in Waverly and Oak Ridge. I'm here in Arlington. There's a lot wrong with that picture.