Ah, ha! I remembered what I wanted to document and forgot. Saturday when I asked Mother how she slept, she told me she walked in her sleep and fell down the steps. Okey Dokey. The only steps in the house lead down to the basement. They're pretty bad steps - wrong width of risers, partially enclosed, and end on a concrete floor. In other words, dangerous, and for the life of me I can't figure out why Joe didn't have them redone as soon as they moved in this house.
Soooo, considering Mama wasn't lying in a heap at the bottom of the stairs, didn't have any broken bones, and didn't have massive bruising, she had to have either dreamed this or gotten it confused with a childhood memory. She bruises if you look at her hard. No bruises mean no mishap in her case.
When Dad was walking out of the kitchen with his lunch Sunday, he called to the cat, "Come on little doggie." He wasn't being funny or joking. About half the time he calls the cat a dog, and he also calls him "her."
On Tuesday, Dad sat beside me on the couch and proceeded to tell me how he was confused about the weather and rambled into thinking it was 2:00 hours ago. No word in there about the weather. He couldn't come up with the word for clock. Then he went on to tell me he didn't think much of what I call a lunch. Oy. If his mouth will get well, and we can get his partial back in, he can actually eat something that's more than soft. He sure doesn't like the limited stuff I've been trying to feed him. Monday I gave him a tuna sandwich and a bowl of bean and bacon soup. He ate half of the sandwich and none of the soup.
He knows the girls (sitters) are coming but he keeps expecting them to arrive now. I told him Sunday I was going home on Wednesday and that the girls would be back on Wednesday. He's asked me daily since why the girls aren't here. See, Sheila does things with him outside. She'll help him with the raking he's obsessed with right now. Joe can barely wait for Sheila to be here.
I won't help with that; I shudder at the thought of working outside in the sun. My pale purple skin crawls when the sun beats down on it. It actually hurts. I can become blistered in 15 minutes flat. I've always blistered easily and never tanned well. As I've aged, it's gotten worse, and now I just turn more red and purple. I despise my skin coloring. Also, about 10 years or so ago I was put on a medicine to help with arthritis, and that medicine reacted to exposure to the sun. You weren't supposed to be in the sun while on it. After I discovered a food allergy was the cause of the knarly joints, stopped eating that food (potatoes, of all things), and stopped taking that medicine, I still can't endure the sun. I think the medicine toggled on forever an already sensitive reaction to the sun.