Yesterday Rose and I took Mrs. Feller a big bag of candy and cashews. Of course, Rose was the real treat. She sat at the dinner table and watched me play Solitaire, but even her presence could not influence a win for me. I average about one win every three weeks.

Later she sat in Clara’s automatic chair that goes up and down and tilts forward and back and is really, really comfy. I thought she might run out and raid the snack cart of ice cream when it came around, but she controlled herself. It is possible, however, that she had had her head in the candy bag. It seems I did hear munching while I was sitting in Kathryn’s wheelchair with my feet up on the bed reading my Kindle was Kathryn dozed. I just realized I forgot to check her pockets when we left . . .

I didn’t scarf any of the candy bars, but maybe I should have because as the night unfolded I don’t think they would have added calories. You see, we came home and I went to bed and woke up with a burning in the pit of my stomach and diarrhea – or as some people here call it, “THE Diarrhea.” Rose, though, was fine . . . she woke up, looked at me and muttered, “Oh, too bad,” and mowed farther away from me. She said, “I do THE Crazy; I don’t do THE diarrhea.” Probably a wise decision on her part.