Today nearly defeated me. I managed to get up and dressed for yoga–I was going to go!– when the phone rang about 8:30–yoga is at 9. Uh-oh, the early morning call usually means Bickford. But no, it was an electronic message reminding me Coco was to have a bath on Monday, Oct 4, drop her off by 9. What?! That’s today! Why didn’t they call Friday?! Why had I been so stupid as to make an appt for Monday? Angry and depressed by the situation and my apparent incompetence, for there was no way to make yoga now– I found the car covered w. frost. Argh! We currently have three cars, and until I get the Cruiser sold, my car sits outside. I was in a hurry, but I couldn’t drive until the windshield cleared up. Fume, fume. Finally I was able to leave, hurried inside, grabbed Coco, told Mom what was going on, and headed for the vet. By then it was just too late to get to yoga, so I drove home, feeling sorry for myself and heavy-limbed with an all-too-familiar depression. Joe greeted me with the news that about 10 minutes after I left, the vet’s office called and said “Whoops! Wrong day! You were supposed to come tomorrow.” Grrrrr. I hadn’t THOUGHT I would make an appt. for Monday, anyway. Oddly, when I got to the office they didn’t tell me they’d goofed and sorry. I guess I should be glad they worked Coco in–or maybe THEY should be glad they did so I didn’t splatter all over their nice walls with aggravation. Joe brought me a cup of hot fresh coffee, and it turns out that is as good as a cup of cold water in the desert–it was below freezing here this morning, so the coffee was welcome. We took the Cruiser to get it checked out for sale, my husband grocery shopped, bless him, and I’ve been typing more of my mother’s long diary–I’m a little more than halfway through 1954. I doubt I will finish it any time soon. Peanut butter toast is also soothing for lunch, along with a honey crisp apple and a Vanilla Zero Coke–bleah. Plans for the afternoon–get my walk in since I’m in exercise clothes anyway. Cut up fruit. Come up with dinner.

I got a message a couple of hours ago from a good friend that we could meet for a coke and visit, which we have not had time to do recently. Since her mother-in-law lived to be 107 and her husband, older than her, is in poor health, she understands a lot of what I am going through. She tells me I will miss the responsibility of visiting them when my parents are gone. I’m pretty sure she’s right, but at this moment, the responsibility for them is overwhelming.

Yesterday I arrived at Bickford and found a police car at the front door. I still don’t know what happened–I’m most curious–but I was dropping off Mom from church, and then went to see Dad. “I’m in the middle of a crisis!” he announced, though he looked just fine. It turned out that he had been waiting for OVER AN HOUR for his shower. I told him I thought there had been an emergency in the building since there was a police car at the door. He knew, and he didn’t care. The staff person who was to give him the shower had come and explained she would be delayed, and “[he] was nasty.” Great. “Doesn’t sound wise to me–being nasty to the people who care for you.” He muttered and then said, “I’ll reform.” I left the room to solve the crisis–actually to find the person Dad snarled at and apologize. I told her if necessary, we would hire someone to give him a shower exactly on time. She didn’t want us to do that, but admitted she had cried when Dad spoke so meanly to her. It made me angry that Dad should be so selfish, but I guess it comes with the age and infirmity. I don’t think that is a good enough excuse though, and will ask him if he wants to hire someone. I suspect when he told me about his behavior that he was probably sorry, and wanted to make things right. We’ll see. I’m also going to propose he send her flowers with an apology–at the minimum, apologize.

Time to go get the dog.

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