CLEANING DAY

First, the sawdust mess left by the contractor who did the fine sheetrock job but the bad paint job in the kitchen, not to mention the crap clean-up job outside and on the porch, both dusted not-so-lightly with bits of 1 x 3s, trim, nails, and about six pounds of sawdust.

Next, the downstairs toilet. Not to get too graphic here, but it's used only by Peg and Odd, because it's the only one downstairs, and Odd uses about 4 rolls of loo paper each time. The result being it tends to stop up. Even using single ply. And this being a septic tank and leeching field and not a city sewer, one doesn't really want it backing up if it has no where to go. So out comes the plunger--correction, out come the surgical gloves--then the plunger, then two wire coat hangers quickly bent to snake round the waste pipe but which snap off in the toilet, and deeper than the edge of the surgical glove so have to go find long marigold rubber ones to go fish the hangers out. Found a bottle of something called Rid-X under the sink in there so slopped some into the bowl, let it sit, hit the flush, then plunged madly as the, er, interesting colored water's rising and rising and finally hurrah hurrah, changes direction at the last minute and goes swirling downwards and into the basement and out down the hill to Leland Road or wherever the hell it lives.

Thirdly, the last remaining old grey metal file cabinet in Peg's room. This is not to suggest the room has no files anywhere else, on the contrary, not counting 29 lamps (which in fact I do count, because I have never seen so many in one room besides a lighting store), it consists of nothing BUT file folders and plastic envelopes full of who-knows-what. No discernible order. Complete chaos, in fact, floor to ceiling. Small example: metal file drawer in question contained a hammer, a cotton sock, a sash to a bathrobe given away years ago, 3 catheter bags, a valentine to Japan half-addressed, a National Geographic, a Saturday Review, a picture of some aunts as little girls in Kasson, MN, a picture of me in Alaska at a stove, a box of paper clips, a lipstick, three earrings with clips broken, a folder of all her social security payments dating from the 1950s, a bag of Depends, a folder listing every actor who ever appeared on her radio or TV shows, a Milk Bone dog biscuit, and a huge pile of The Couple Next Door fan letters circa 1959. Hysterics ensued when I tried to remove any of it. I dropped the project (until she's asleep).
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Odd is fine this morning, no breathing issues. I think he had too rich a dinner and lay down too soon afterwards. Acid reflux. Diaphragm goes into spasm. Or epiglottis does. Or something, some valve, making him think he can't breathe. How Peg Helps In These Situations: sits there looking at Odd who's making terrible gasping gurgling noises and pitiful cries, and me leaping around in Nurse Jackie mode, and says, slightly puzzled, "Isn't it funny he has trouble AFTER a meal, when I have trouble at the start! Huh."
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STAFF ON CALL:

Bonnie. 8 AM - 4 PM.
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HIGHLIGHTS, NOT COUNTING TOILET:

Finding the rest of my last night's lobster in a dish in the fridge, for lunch.

Walking dog to mailbox and back
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Well it's 7:30 now. I don't know whether to get dinner for them or not, they're still sleeping. My dinner so far has been pretzels and lemon shortbreads and wine.
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Odd's up. 8:30 PM. Visited with him awhile. He told me how clever I am and how wonderful. I made him cod and baked potatoes and salad for dinner. No sign of Peg. I'm eating the other half of Odd's potato and 3 capers left from browned cod butter.
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9:30 PM Now she's up, and wanting dinner. Made more fish. Now she's here at the butcher block eating dinner and Odd who I'd hoped was going to bed has now clumped on it here with his walker to sit and watch her eat and she's just turned on the Weather Channel so we're now getting weather in Illinois at top volume and I'm outta here. Bed. I feel sad. Not sad enough to stay down here, you'll notice. 

Hope they manage ok.