She woke for a few moments just now to pull at the blanket covering her and ask what it was called but before I could tell her she'd dozed off again. It's like that now.
I had a fretful and fairly sleepless night worrying she would need me and I was all the way upstairs and wouldn't hear her call out. I left the doors open so I'd hear better. But the doors open meant the light from there hall spilled in, ditto heat, so off went the quilt and on with the eye mask, but then my nose stuffed up and I had to open the window. Seemed to be an owl convention going on. I turned on my noise machine (rain and fountain apps) but again worried I wouldn't hear Peg so turned them off again.
At 6:30am I gave up and, fed up, got up and went to put on my Becket robe, a black watch tartan flannel full length pullover turtleneck job--but it wasn't in the closet. I'd put it in the wash when I left last August. Clearly someone had put it back in the wrong place, or, as I became convinced, having looked in every closet and cupboard in the house--stolen it. Though why anyone would do this, I don't know. While tearing through Peg's closet, she awoke, and when I went in she was sitting on the edge of her bed.
"What are you doing in there?"
"Someone's stolen my robe! My robe, my favorite robe is gone, Mother! Gone!"
We discussed where I had looked for it i.e. everywhere and how it was nowhere to be found.
"What should I do?" Peg asked, after a bit.
"About what? It's gone! Gone!"
"No. Now. What am I supposed to do?"
I suddenly realized she meant should she get up, go back to sleep, put her teeth in, empty her catheter, go to the loo--she DIDN'T KNOW.
"I don't know what I'm supposed to do. I can't think." She looked up at me, helplessly. Somehow I managed, just, to forget about my robe for a second.
"Well. It's morning, Mama," I said. "I guess you could go have some breakfast? How would that be?"
She mulled this over, then nodded, put her teeth in, but then couldn't stand up so I had to give her a boost. I think we need to get a hospital bed in there for her. Anyhow, once latched onto her walker, away she went to the kitchen, grabbing two bananas en route through the bar.
I found my robe, finally, in a drawer in the Tulip Room of all places, under the salmon pink sheets that go in there, no idea who put it there but thus clad, I returned to the kitchen, by which time Bonnie had arrived and took over the Pill Taking, Weighing, Blood Sugar and Oxygen Levels and in a far better humor than I would have.
I then reminded Peg for the nine hundredth time that luncheon guests were expected whereupon she began obsessing about her wardrobe so I got her changed and hair and eyebrows and lipstick on, chose jewelry, then took a shower myself, washed hair, and raced down to get lunch going, fire started, table set and was all ready for 12 noon when both sets of guests ring to say they're delayed. They arrived three hours later than planned, in the end, one due to oil trouble with the car and around Auburn and having to find a gas station and the other due to having inadvertently locked the keys and the dog in the car when stopping at a farm stand to buy a pie and maple syrup for me, as requested. So lunch turned into early dinner. They all just left. I don't know when to wake Peg to put her to bed. Decisions are getting me down.
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OWL NEWS
Oslo was back on her perch today on the bird feeder by Bonnie's desk. I was looking at her, tapping the window to make her turn and give me her kinda sassy one-eyed wink, which she did, and we kept this up for quite some time, which I like to think we both enjoyed in our own way--until suddenly she whipped round, opened her wings, dive-bombed onto a squirrel and flew off with it, just as I was wondering if I should feed her a little something since she never appeared to have much luck catching anything and was in fact about to google owls to see if they ate chicken.
For the record, on the various bird feeders today we had: finches, chickadees, a tufted titmouse, a nuthatch, two doves, a woodpecker and a cardinal. I may have to re-think my hatred of all feathered things that fly. Seriously. I cannot believe I am spending even one second looking at birds eating seeds let alone caring about one species bullying another. This is what Becket does to you.
My friend Amy put this on my Facebook page.
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