Got Me Again, Darn It!
Fri., March 2, 04:48 PM
Now I'm off track again. As you know, I've been working on figuring out why I'm tired, which I am fairly sure is more mental than physical. My first reaction is to blame everything on Husband, but I try not to do that, It's not his fault he's old and ultradependent -- even if he does affect almost everything else that can bother me.
I was well aware that some of ny problems were really temporary, and I felt better as spring got closer. I accomplished a lot over the past week. I woke up this morning around six, thinking that, despite the heavy rain I could still hear, it was going to be a better day. I put the radio on low and crawled back under the covers, planning to doze until seven or so.
About twenty minutes later, I heard a crash from the kitchen. I yelled out, and Husband said, "no problem"; he had just knocked something down. I got up to look. He had made the coffee I set up for him -- yesterday -- and he was fixing some toast and jelly. Fine. I'm up. I'll start my morning routine.
I put on the big pot of coffee for U.D. and me. (Question: how come coffee pots are still marked off for six-ounce cups when most people drink out of mugs that hold ten ounces or more?) As I started washing the few dishes in the sink, I noticed that Husband was getting his pills out. He may take the box out, but someone has to give him the pills and make sure he actually puts them in his mouth and swallows.
Y'know, it was not yet seven; he usually gets up for his pills around ten. So much for my routine. (I just now remembered that, thanks to him, I forgot to test my blood sugar this morning!) I gave him his pills, thinking he would just get up and get his toast and coffee. "Aren't I supposed to have oatmeal?" Fine; I will cook him oatmeal. And then I will prepare the bagel that U.D. and I will share. "Is half of that for me?" "No, U.D. gets the other half."
I wake up U.D. Twice. Go outside for the newspaper. Husband finishes the oatmeal and goes back to his toast and coffee. He will carry it to his own room because he doesn't want to be around when U.D. gets up. (Don't ask.) Once she leaves, he is back, of course, for the paper.
He announces that he will take a shower today. When? I had better postpone doing any laundry. He will take his time getting in, and then the bathroom will be occupied for at least an hour. I have other things to do -- and I do them, waiting for him to finish with the newspaper and get his act on the road. "You gonna put fresh sheets on my bed?" Of course I am; this is an improvement. It used to be, I would have to sneak in to do it, because he would chase me out. I fooled him though. I stripped the bed so that he couldn't decide to go back to sleep before showering.
While he was in the shower, I not only made the bed, I vacuumed, his room as well as the others. It was not what I had planned for my day, but it did have to be done. Working around him is not easy. And then I finally sat down at my computer. I figured he was set for a while.
Around two I began preparing my lunch. Slow food, a big salad that would take me a long time to eat. That's one of the best diet tricks I know. Uh oh, here is Husband. "Are you going to make me a sandwich?" Yes, I will interrupt what I m doing for you. "Oh, make yours first." That's not the point; I can't eat it until I get him out of my way. He doesn't eat salad, by the way. That is one of my foolish female things.
I made him a lunch, let him reheat his coffee, and finally sat down to my own lunch about three. The day isn't over and he has gotten me twice already. When I nap, he will come out yelling when it's time for his tv show "get up, it's time for my pills." (Yeah, he did; he also shone a bright light in my face.)
I keep telling myself, it really isn't his fault. But it doesn't make it any easier.
