This afternoon I wanted to go visit Kathryn at the nursing home and I wanted to be clean, so I showered and shampooed. Then I brushed my hair and decided my roots needed to dry upright . . . so I scooped up most of my hair into a topknot and stuck a hat on my head – my dear, beloved Dorfman Pacific hat with the mesh crown and the neck strap.

Sometime at the the nursing home, I took my hat off, forgetting about my hair sticking out at odd angles and spouting on top. I did not realize this until much later, after many trips to the nurses’ station and talking with people who came in the room.

I notice I’ve been doing this frequently. I don’t know what the staff calls me there, and I guess it’s more comfortable for my self confidence that way.

I know where I have been; I just didn’t realize how things blended together, as did days. This has been a week of trips to Fort Wayne, hours spent at the LaGrange house as the new green metal roof goes on, extra time at the
nursing home because Mrs. Feller’s daughter’s been sick . . . and because I like sitting there with Kathryn and Clara . . . and one dastardly day of eight or so hours of catching up (a little bit) on housework. I just don’t like that activity and am stressing rules, i.e. You get something out; you put it away.

So, no, I’m not gone; I’m here . . . for what it is worth.