Decorator?
Lucy has rearranged the blanket on The Curmudgeon’s chair numerous time tonight. While doing so she flipped open both arm rests. (They have storage in them.)
This was after rearranging her blanket and the blanket covering the couch.
Now she’s snoring, maybe she’s done?
Holy effing OW!
I did The Curmudgeon’s wash yesterday. Yay me. 
I also managed to jam my pinky as I was loading the washing machine.
Yep, pain has a color.
Dang that doorbell!
Well, it’s started. The political door knockers have rung our doorbell every day this week, always after The Curmudgeon has gone up for his nap.
We have this incredibly loud Westminster door chime I would love to replace, but I am not fond of doing electrical work while on a ladder.
Forget The Curmudgeon doing it. That will never happen.
I put a sign up today in hopes the doorbell ringers will leave us alone.
Running all day
I thought I could actually have a day of nothing to do but relax.
Nope.
I spent the day running up and down two flights of stairs doing laundry-mine (which I will continue to do tomorrow-his.)
I do ours separately because his clothes wouldn’t go over big with him smelling like my patchouli laundry soap.
Between trips Lucy wanted extreme attention. Seems she thinks she’s being neglected when I have to be out of her sight for any length of time.
A stair lift…
After The Curmudgeon’s fall down the stairs, his neurologist, physical therapist, occupational therapist all have told us to get one.
Not as easy as it sounds.
He’s fighting it tooth and nail although he, over the last week or so, has begun to admit maybe he needs one.
I gave him my opinion a long time ago and he wouldn’t listen so for this one, he’s on his own.
I’ve left it up to him to take care of it or not.
A day in the life…
Started out with feeding Lucy, taking her out, and then coffee, breakfast, and checking my e-mails and FB.
As soon as I sit down The Curmudgeon goes to the kitchen to make his breakfast and get his coffee. (Part of making him do things rather than him just sitting in his chair.)
Next, I pulled the van in front of the house (Yay for empty parking spaces!) I loaded his rollator in the side door and we took off.
I dropped him with his rollator to get a haircut while I ran into Giant to get groceries.
Once we were both done, I ran over to the pet store for Lucy food. Ever so grateful for the guy who told me to leave the stuff and go get my car. I walked back to the van, and drove over to the front of the store, he came out with my stuff and loaded it in the side door.
We then stopped at the salon, where I get my hair done, to pick up some stuff for The Curmudgeon.
We were home by 2:30.
I parked out front (again an open parking space!) unloaded him with his rollator, carried the rollator inside, and carried in all the groceries. Once unloaded, I pulled the van into the driveway and went in to put everything away.
I miss my bed…
It’s been several years since I’ve slept in my bed.
Why? You ask.
If I sleep in my bed I don’t hear him if he falls.
I sleep on the couch downstairs so I hear him when he falls. I share the couch with Lucy.
I miss my bed.
Finding time and peace to write…
It’s not easy for me to find time to write where I am not being pestered by The Curmudgeon and his constant need to talk about what is on the TV even though I am sitting eight feet away from him.
There is where the need for peace comes in.
He doesn’t understand that need.
I wish I still had my second floor office. I gave that up when my sister’s kids were here. Never did move myself back there and now that room is a catch-all.
Maybe, once the attic is cleaned? If that ever happens. We need professionals for that job.
On another note.
Today his neurologist decided to see what she can do about getting him a stair glider so we don’t risk another fall. She’s also going to see what she can do about a safety analysis of our house.
Personally, I’d rather sell this damned house and move somewhere with lower taxes and all on one floor.
Busy week this week
Today The Curmudgeon has an appointment with his neurologist. It’s a late afternoon appointment that sort of wastes my entire day since there’s no chance I can sneak out to the grocery store.
I need to get to the grocery store.
Can’t go the next day because I have an appointment with my doctor after the physical therapist comes for The Curmudgeon.
If I am not too late at my doctor, I might be able to sneak in a stop at the pet store for dog food, and then maybe a quick short list run through the grocery store, but I wouldn’t bet the farm on that.
Damn…I’m actually good.
So, I was reading through my manuscript of Doggoned Dead, that for the last few years I’d set aside because I didn’t have the heart or energy to continue, and there were a few places that made me cry.
That’s when I told myself, “Damn, you’re good. You made yourself cry.”
Now I am trying hard to get back to working on it.
First thing I did was to reread the whole thing…
I’m hoping I can get into the swing of writing again.
Whiny man…
“Holy cow, are you three? For heaven’s sake stand up straight and use your core.”
“I hurt. My muscles are sore.”
“Because you haven’t been using them! And speaking of that, did you do your exercises today?”
“No, I’m too sore.”
“You have to do them sore or not. You keep this up, and I’m done with you. We can make nursing home arrangements.”
“But I’m sore.”
“Tough. You know what he said about if you don’t commit to doing the work. He’ll sign off on you.”
Later, I heard him upstairs doing something after he went up to go to bed. I went up and caught him doing some of his exercises.
No mercy…LOL
I get a kick out of The Curmudgeon’s physical therapist. He shows no mercy, doesn’t accept excuses, and works The Curmudgeon’s buns off.
He’s exactly what The Curmudgeon needs.
The Curmudgeon stopped listening to me long ago about exercising. Now he’s paying for it.
Doggonedmysteries 