Apart from having Kentucky Fried Chicken for lunch and getting a coupon for a 10-cent a gallon discount on gas, today was kind of an uphill day. I daddy sat while my mom went to church. She hadn’t been gone half an hour when he decided he needed to go to the bathroom. He made it as far as the bathroom door when his legs gave out and he crumpled to the floor. I cannot lift him by myself. J, the neighbor lady across the street, and her husband C were at church. There was nothing for it but to straighten him out on the bedroom floor, get a pillow for his head and cover him with his “blankie*.” Fortunately, there is a TV in the bedroom. I sat in mom’s dresser chair and watched him with one eye and the TV with the other. When mom came home two hours later, we were able to get him up and sit him on the bed, then get him into his wheel chair and back into his recliner in the living room. After we had our lunch of KFC, mom and I put my empty “good” boxes in the attic.
My dad goes through these “spells” periodically where he talks about things in a random and somewhat delusional manner (he was worried about having to go give a speech today) for hours at a time, even into the night, and he has difficulty walking distances he can usually manage. These “spells” always seem to occur on the weekends for some reason. He did mention the dead horse in the shell crater, which was the only thing that we could relate to anything real or factual, as it actually occurred. During World War II, while he was in the Pacific, he had to take cover in a shell crater that was already occupied by a dead horse. He was pinned down by enemy fire and was forced to stay there for some time. This probably happened during the Battle of Okinawa in 1945, in which his Marine Battalion took part. He also fought at Tarawa, where their casualties were so heavy that what was left of several platoons had to be reformed into a new platoon in the field. Since my dad had the highest rank, he was given command of the platoon. He was later officially promoted to platoon sergeant (which was his rank when he met my mom) and he and his platoon trained on American Samoa for the invasion of Okinawa. The hash mark on his lower sleeve in this picture indicates 4 years of active duty service. It would have been a gold stripe, indicating good conduct (no infractions or disciplinary actions) during that term of service.
On my way home from my folks’ house, I finally put the duplex keys in the mail. I no longer have keys to the property, and what happens to it is no longer my concern. Halleluiah! Then I stopped by Market Street on Indiana Avenue and got some groceries, mostly fruit, and some of their wonderful brisket — and when I checked out, I got a coupon for a discount of 10 cents a gallon when I fill up at their gas pumps, which you can bet I will use. After I got home, I hauled the dead filing cabinet out to the dumpster and moved that one end table back into the office for my printer, shredder, and file box, and I hung a bunch of pictures in the office (left) as well as my calendar. (Note the supervisory kitty.) Here’s how my peg board will work (right) — a trial run with one of the pieces just leaning against the table. Slowly but surely, things are getting sorted out. (You might notice I have a thing about blank walls. I don’t like them.)
For my evening meal, I’m having a brisket sandwich on a ciabatta roll, with horseradish sauce spread on one side (wonderful!), and some “mixed melon” pieces — they had containers of a mixture of honeydew, cantaloup, and watermelon pieces at Market Street so I bought one. Very cool, crunchy and tasty. I also got a bottle of pomegranate juice for tea. Regular old Earl Grey made hot and allowed to cool, then served over ice with a dollop of pomegranate juice is just the thing for hot summer days.
I’m supposed to have the cyst on my left wrist excised bright and early on the 16th, and the dermatologist who’s going to do the deed put me on minocycline antibiotic which I’m supposed to take twice a day leading up to the surgery, and I’ve also restarted the gapapentin twice a day because of the tingling in my thumb and wrist from the pinched nerve. It should help the pain in my feet, too.
Here’s (left)what those yahoos did to the top of the chest of drawers my late sister-in-law refinished. Sentimental value aside, it is a nice piece of furniture, and I’m not happy about the scratches.
I am happy to say, though, that the grey kitty is on the mend. She’s only sneezing occasionally, and is no longer snuffling and congested. I am relieved and so, I suspect, is she. Poor little baby girl.
I have to go daddysit again tomorrow while my mom goes to the dentist. I also need to get my car license sticker, and get the address changed on my driver’s license (which I can do on line). After I did two loads of wash the other day, I somehow, ended up with two more pairs of slacks than I have hangers for. Not sure how that happened. I need go through all my clothes, try everything on and “recycle” those items that don’t fit and/or that I don’t wear anymore. That will free up some hangers, no doubt. I’ve got to start a new bag of cat food tonight, which means I line my plastic pet food container with a fresh plastic trash can liner bag, and then empty the bag of cat food into it. The container seals and keeps the kibble fresh — one bag lasts three cats for a month. I line it with a trash can liner because the kibble is slightly “greasy” and stains the plastic. I learned that the hard way. I take the used trash can liner and line a trash can with it. I think I’m going to play a few levels of Bubbletown, and then hit the hay.