Everything was fine and it was splendid to see Lily and Jessie and Gibson and August and Magnolia, and our pizza and salad at Uncle Maddio's was delicious as always and Costco was fine with many of Gibson's favorite foods being sampled including steamed dumplings and macaroni and cheese AND fried mozzarella sticks but it all just left me jangling and janky and ready to get back to the peace of Lloyd and my own little place in it. I had to go to Publix on my way home because I didn't want to buy a flat of pinto beans, merely a bag of them, and so I stopped there too, and forgot the damn milk. I almost forgot the bananas and I only went in there for those three specific things- beans, milk, bananas.
You know those articles on Facebook with titles like, "Normal aging or dementia? Check out these five symptoms to help you tell the difference."
Well, I don't click on them because I DON'T WANT TO KNOW. It's like- why would anyone in the world go to a fortune teller or a psychic? If they're shite, then it's a waste of money. If they're real, again, I DON'T WANT TO KNOW.
I mean, it all ends in death, no matter what. It's merely the details that we don't know.
And thank you, no. I'd rather not unless I can be told for certain sure without a doubt in this universe that I'm going to die happily in my sleep while having the most delicious dream ever dreamed.
Which is impossible.
What was I talking about? Oh yeah. Forgetting things.
I do that a lot.
But you know, there are a lot of things I don't forget. Here are a few:
1. Taking care of my grandchildren when I am needed.
2. Picking up my grandchildren if I am needed.
3. Letting my chickens out in the morning.
4. Putting them up at night.
5. How to cook.
6. How to get to Publix.
7. How to get to the library.
8. How to do laundry.
9. To set the coffee at night so it will be ready in the morning.
10. To never run out of coffee or toilet paper.
I figure if I can do all of that, it'll all be okay. For awhile, at least, and as long as I remember my husband's name.
And my own name.
Well, this has been a cheery fucking post, hasn't it?
I'm sorry but that's just part of the reality of growing older. Maybe tomorrow I'll talk about skin issues and what it's like to bleed every time you scratch an ant bite a little too vigorously or bump a knuckle on something.
Unless I die peacefully in my cozy bed tonight. In which case it will all be a moot point.
P.S. If there's anything I do enjoy about aging, it is of course grandchildren.
The rat tail brothers and their baby sister, going to the library.