Caregiver’s Log: Day 985
10:00 am Dust office and bedrooms. Decide against cleaning bathrooms, settling for a quick wipe-down of counters and toilets.
10:30 am Jump on conference call with realtor, step-brother you’ve met exactly once who controls the family trust and father whose only response is “what?” approximately sixteen times during discussion of lowball—and only—offer in a month on the island cottage where your father lived and basically ran into the ground for the last thirty years. Yell, “TAKE THE OFFER!”
Text your father another reminder to get his hearing aids checked.
10:45 am Pick up dogshit on lawn, empty catbox and wheel out trash barrel to curb. Fold the first of three loads of laundry, thinking how much you took for granted all the chores your husband used to do around the house.
11:00 am Check on Greta and get the mail: a flyer from Realtor Bob who apparently has an unlimited advertising budget and still wants you to call him today. Agree with your husband about the molasses-like speed of Medicare claims processing. Reassure him that his eight-day stay in the hospital will not cost a half million dollars.
Let dogs in and out for the eighteenth time this morning, silently vowing to install a dog door if the cat dies before you do.
4th in a Series of 7. Read the rest here