When the contractor is here today, we complain about tile stuff...some of which he may fix. He claims the head tile guy will come over. All the faucets and such get in. I wonder about the shower fixture that I chose. The contractor is talking endings. Wood floor guys here three or four days then 'finish line.' He wants to know if he can hire our cleaning people for final clean-up. His cleaning contractor is having 'marital difficulties.' He can see the end. He wants to be out from under our 'little job' (as he calls it). He is doing two huge ones. "Take that to the dumpster on Perry Lane," he says to the plumber. Perry Lane is the project he is worrying about. He wants to get paid here and get us off his back. We'd sort of like to have him and his subs banished from our house, too.

Dad executes some legal documents today. A new advanced health care directive, properly executed by a lawyer. (His was decades old and one witness had himself died and it was just notarized on a standard form.) When you go for any procedure, they always want to know about these, have copies if possible. Mom's from the same era was worn out from copying and, even at that, we had to execute a special one for transport in an ambulance from one place to another. As we review the choices I notice that if you choose heroic measures (not!) that if you willingly enter hospice then it doesn't apply. Maybe that's 'the deal' my friend was talking about at Christopher House. You go for comfort. And my dad signed a medical power-of-attorney designating me. I am hoping this will make it easier for me to deal with his doctors. Even though it clearly states his right to make decisions as long as he's able. We want to convince them to let me talk about his case and get records sent and stuff. Just because I am, in his words, his manager. I have a general power-of-attorney for him but that just gives you the right to handle financial matters. It's funny Dad has said for years that he wanted me to take over his affairs. Oddly, we have come a long way toward that. I don't pay all his bills but I manage a lot of them. My friend drives us down to the lawyer's office and we joke about her driving both of us when we get old. I'm laughing but everyone's driving career ends, one way or the other.

My friend is visiting because the computer she is trying to use is too clunky to be usable. We are on-line looking for 'comparisons.' You really can't compare stuff because, ultimately, there are all these little differences. The one she is banishing she got from her brother. He wanted a hundred bucks for it, but she decided it wasn't worth that. Once it was the a whizzy thing someone was proud to get. I know that story. Computer and electronic eras end every month it seems.

Nothing wrong with endings or anticipating them. They will come. Things that seem endless and forever never are. Many times I've purchased the ultimate something, wrapped up the complete paperwork or finished some home improvement project. Another takes its place. Something steps in, the old thing languishes and starts looking stupid if it doesn't disappear all together.

A person's life ends, too, and that is for sure and it is that shocking finality, I think, that makes people pursue the 'life without end' religious angle.

 

 

 

 

 

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Mood is better but still on the low side. My eating habits upset my digestion. Go figure.