Ten days to live

I’m sorry, but it is on my mind. Last year at this time it was one day until my mother’s 83rd birthday; she would die ten days later. She had spent the summer and before that dying . . . and we didn’t know it. I don’t know if she did or not. I’d like to think at the time she felt she was just getting anemic and more tired with increasing age.

A year.

So what am I doing now? What Mother hated the most – housecleaning. I don’t know why but for some reason I want to get things all spiffed up. I suppose it is symbolic – for what other reason would I crawl around cleaning clutter which is quite willing to accept the philosophy of live and let live?

But, I continue;  today I am steam cleaning parts of the basement and then taking it easy by going through cabinets. I think my friends at the Peanut Butter Cafe & Roadhouse are gathering up all my things that and stashing them for some future date when I come to my senses. That’s what my grandfather did once. Grandma threw stuff out of an upstairs window and he came around and loaded it in a wagon and took it over to his work shed.