On the 26th Joe was trying to be helpful. There was a glass of juice on the counter that I was drinking. While I was out of the room, he decided it needed to be put in the fridge. So he kindly put it on a shelf in the refrigerator door. Of course, the next time I opened the door, the glass slid right off the shelf. It's amazing how far liquid can splatter. Y'all would be proud of me. I didn't say a word to him, just sighed and got the mop.
Lola has reached the point where she needs a magnifying glass to read almost anything. I saw her reach for it to reread Bebe's obituary. The funeral home gave her a nice laminated card with it. Lola keeps it in her basket by her chair and looks at it almost every day. It's at least a 14 font, which she should be able to read with her glasses. I wonder what she actually can see anymore. She has no care about it, though. Taking her to an optometrist would upset her more than her not seeing.
Whenever she reads the obituary, she has taken to asking me if I remember Bebe. How can a person lose that much of their mind? Really. Doesn't it make you wonder just what she does remember of her life?
On the 27th, Wednesday, at 1:30 p.m., Joe was sitting in his den in sweat pants, a tee shirt, and a fleece jacket. The sweats are his sleeping clothes. In other words, for some reason, he was still in his jammies. That's unusual for him. What struck me just as much is that the temperature in that room is averaging 85 degrees. Whew!