I’m putting together a year end round up for 2022; I expect it’ll take most of the day so I’m scheduling it to be posted after supper.
Yesterday I had two phone conversations with Paul. The first one was a little disturbing but ended on a good note. (Among other things he accused me of lifting his drivers licence. I told him Paul it’s in your wallet. You’ve been asked not to drive by your doctor. But I’ll never get it back, he said. I want to be driving again, he said. Maybe not too much, just errands. With difficulty we returned to less emotional topics.) Then he called me back within five minutes and I realized that the entire contents of the previous twenty-five minute conversation were no longer there; he was waiting at home for me to come pick him up even though we had thoroughly discussed how his car needs to go in for servicing for a O2 sensor and that I wouldn’t be there that day. I’m going over today to do his feet. Since the Echo is parked until I get an appointment at one of the two garages I have selected, I’ll be taxiing over. I may call Katie, we’ll see. Ah!! I have a lift.
I believed I handled it all without being an asshole to him but the end result was that I felt worn to a ravelling and of course I couldn’t stop crying. I thought I had gotten to an emotional place where I feel sad about his condition but not swept away by it or responsible for it, or angry at him (how could he be like this and other equally selfish and useless things to think.) And now it’s goodbye every day until he dies or I do.
I need to fill my bucket. I won’t see Ryker today, he’s with his papa.
Jeff continues to make my life easier in big ways and small.
The rat in the trash was horrible. The rat is gone; the feeling of uncleanness and my gagging over the cleanup lingers on. SO MANY RAT TURDS.
Enough; time to watch Eggpants (the Expanse).