Back to Normal

  No sense in sitting around and worrying about Mom.  Not 24 hours after her allergic reaction, she’s back to normal.  My first clue, just a few minutes ago, was her delivery of the old toaster oven from the shop (where I had retired it months ago) to our house.  Her goal is for me to give it to my church rummage sale.  (It’s a donation I wouldn’t make even if my church had a rummage sale.  I have my doubts about electrical appliances over the quarter century mark.)  But rather than have the greasy old oven sit on my recliner where she deposited it, I put it out in the trunk of my car.  Here’s the secret:  this Wednesday evening on my way to choir, when the trash can is sitting roadside, I am going to deposit the toaster oven in the can.  With any luck, Mom won’t find it before Thursday morning when the trash is picked up.

    Right now she is driving around our property in her golf cart.  It seems that Benadryl around the clock does not slow her down.  Of course, she had her morning dose of prednisone, which might be why she’s tearing up the turf now.
 
    I myself require much more than prednisone to get me going full speed. . . . Let me amend that statement.  Years ago, on prednisone for some forgotten ailment during spring finals week, I was up in the middle of the night writing notes to each of my students.

    Today I am still rather worn out from yesterday’s ER visit.  And the rainy, cool weather encourages napping.  But with the grand hope of sleeping all night while Mom prowls the house, I’m valiantly fighting sleep at this very moment by writing something that may put you to sleep.  Let’s just say that life is back to normal.