Rough night last night. Flashbacks, or maybe a touch of PTSD. Lying awake. I *knew* that I was at home, in my own bed, with a couple of cats and the fish tank. And yet I wasn't. I was lying on my narrow couch in Bob's hospital room, with him restless in his bed and the alarms going off. For his last week, the damned alarms were going off almost constantly - they have to if the patient's blood pressure is too low, and there's no way of turning them off, and there wasn't a safe way of raising his blood pressure, so they just kept going off, with the flashing lights.
About the only way to deal with this is to just wake up all the way and get up. Maybe have a snack, read a little. I'm fine until I start to drift off and lose my grip on 2023 again. Fortunately this doesn't happen very often - but it's March.
But daylight came, and it's a pretty day, and the azaleas are in full bloom. I took Paper Chicken to the museum where she is going to be spoiled rotten. She wasn't there 10 minutes before some appeared with a bowl of grains, greens, blackberries and mealworms. Then I got to have a nice visit with my friend Judy who works on the farm on Saturdays. Fortunately yesterday I thought ahead and actually packed, so all I have to do now is tidy up the house a bit.
I started with the front porch. There's a lot of stuff that I normally keep in the car - shopping bags, a squirrel rescue kit, random stuff. I pulled it all out so I'll have space for luggage and had just dumped it on the porch. I started to open up the storage cabinet there - and then noticed something a little odd.
Bob's old gardening hat is hanging on that cabinet. I have a few things like that - like his favorite book and pair of glasses is on an end table in the living room. A carolina wren has figured out how to get into the screened in porch (we have an opening for the cats, back in the day when they were allowed outdoors). And the wrens are building a nest in Bob's hat. Guess I'll put stuff away someplace else for a few weeks.
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