Brussels sprouts re still growing,the difference today being that oak leaves have piled up around the plants. I’ll have to rake them away before I can pick. But will I be able to rake or need to appoint somebody else (Fiona?) to do the raking and picking for me. Because, to tell you the truth a day made a lot of difference a short while ago when arthritis decided to move in with a fierce intensity. Sometimes I have to stop and think for a while to plan my next move.
This disease, dis-ease, has afflicted our species since its very beginning. It has afflicted Teddy, too. I think of Teddy as my brother as he moves painfully through a new flare-up. He is spoiled too, and I wonder if I am going to grow all persnickety and dissatisfied like him. I should tell you how he plays with my emotions. These games he devises all have to do with food, as if that dry food we give him was actually worth eating. Of the two games the easiest has to do with his treat. He barks at the back door and I let him out; he limps and lurches around in the yard until he thinks he’s spent enough time and then he comes back to the door where I meet him, he wags his tail violently, and stands looking at me with longing. I ask him if he wants a treat and he barks once. I tell him to sit, get him the treat out of the bag in the hall. Teddy waits. And I hand him a biscuit which he snaps at. It’s over. But once I forgot the treat while Teddy didn’t. Settled in my chair after I let him in, reading, I noticed that he stood beside me looking impatient. He barked, wagged his tail, barked again. Could it be? I thought. Treat? I said. He barked, I stood up, he ran to the hall door and stood just down from the bag. He barked again, snapped up the biscuit I handed to him and went away.
I don’t want to get as demanding as that. I’ve already expressed myself strongly over burritos. I call them barf-offs, and I know that’s not nice. But yesterday we got taco salad instead, so you can see, they are getting really patient with the old lady. And I don’t like that either. But what is really irritating is an inability to do certain tasks in a reasonable amount of time. It’s almost three-thirty and I’m still folding my laundry and getting ready to go to Morris. The amount of stuff I have to take to Morris is similar in quantity to the amount of stuff parents must pack in the car to take a baby almost anywhere. And it’s snowing!
But my goodness, and let me see. If it’s snowing, I’d beeter conquer the slowness before it gets dark. I need to be out of ere by four. I wish you could be here to watch the way I spin through the jobs that need to be done in order to get me to Morris. You will be amazed!