Day: September 20, 2024

<venting>

With Arthur’s brother Alan and Alan’s daughter Dawn visiting here, Arthur has suddenly gotten very obsessed with the bed down in the boathouse (~basement), where he used to sleep. He imagines the possibility of moving back down there to sleep, as a matter of being hospitable to our guests by yielding the main bedroom upstairs, which has become his bedroom now.

So Arthur has finally noticed how I’d strategically disabled the kerosene heater down there, and how I’d stripped apart his old bed. Last night, after dinner, he wanted these things fixed and wouldn’t let go of the notion. Yet he’s also gotten more dependent. Consequently, instead of trying to fix them himself (which is a relief, especially with respect to the kerosene heater – recalling the incident several years ago when I found him standing in a puddle of kerosene at 2AM) he just waits around and pesters me, urgently, about when I’m going to fix them.

I understand that it’s good for Art’s “quality of life” to have people to interact with who care about him, as visitors, but frankly, it’s ruining mine.

I’m so, so dreading the need to travel to Portland with him in November.

I recognize this is more my problem than Arthur’s – I don’t deal well with “contingency” responsibilities, uncertainty, and disrupted routines. I’m going to be a truly horrible old person.

</venting>

---

An anecdote.

Art was stumbling around the kitchen opening cabinets and drawers.

“Watcha looking for?” I asked.

“What?”

I repeated myself, much more loudly.

“I don’t know what I’m looking for,” he answered.

“The oreos are in the upstairs cabinet, now. You put them there,” I guessed.

“Very good,” he said. “Now I know what I was looking for. I didn’t realize I was looking for oreos, but I was.”

---