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Downright Spooky
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Emjay had surgery. Her hubby decided that now would be a good time to get a new refrigerator.

Flash forward one week: today I had oral surgery--drilling into bone, sewing up gums, the works. My hubby decided it would be a good time to get a rotisserie oven. Suddenly he's fixated on it and must have it now.

The new appliance needs to find a home on one of the already occupied counters. The countertop needs to be cleaned off and places found for the stuff that used to reside there (sugar and flour and tea canisters, coffee maker, etc.)

In addition, the cupboard below the new stove needs to be cleared out and/or rearranged to accommodate the accessories for the stove, and the items that won't fit have to find a new home.

I'm in enough pain that it's hard to concentrate and hard to keep my temper. Must bite back what I want to say, because I know the poor judgement is grounded in the Parkinson's effect on the brain--poor task management, poor prioritizing. He's not doing it deliberately and he doesn't have enough perspective to step outside of himsef to see what is happening.

He wants to do something for me, he says. So he buys himself a new oven. For me. And I'm expected to install it, clean up around it, aargh! All I want to do is grab something icy cold to drink (helps with the swelling) and go to bed.

What's weird about all this is that Emjay had a similar experience, not much more than a week ago. Funny how our lives run so parallel.

Life is good. Spooky, but good.


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