I hope tree clumps make good lawn mulch.

The trees over the garage are dropping leafy sprigs, and fluttery bunches of fluffy brown stuff as if from buckets. All over the back patio, which is experiencing its first Spring. Gobs of vegetation and a tribe of carpenter bees are giving the area a special character only enhanced by the leyland cypress bowing oppressively over it all.

edit: And cripes! A tree just fell down in the back yard!

It is, like the basement, just a small part of one family habitat, demanding upkeep. So, I do what I can, without the spirit for it, because the house is not about what the house was supposed to be about for me. Hence, in order to avoid thinking about what the house was supposed to be about, I dream of the Airstream. It represents--in the dream--a retreat where I’d go to shove off the sense of trying to keep a two-person life afloat with only one person.

Man, do I hate fussers and mopers. And there is a self-indictment. Plus, the ball may not be dropped, and now is not the time to relinquish the position of hearth-keeper. ‘Tis disconcerting and disorienting if the mother-ship downsizes to a Jetsons-sized bubble car too soon.

But frankly--and I say this with all the humor I can muster, and completely in the interest of honesty and disclosure as opposed to bellyaching--this is a bit of a ridiculous position. You cannot be an adequate companion to someone with Alzheimer’s. This is because his receiver is broken. All you can do is be there. He will still feel left out, and under-companioned, because he knows he’s missing a no-longer-extant relationship. Because you, the other person, cannot have the former relationship all by yourself. And, even if you could simulate it, his receiver would still be broken. So, you keep being there, as seemingly useless as it is, and hope that maybe at some point you’ll get a chance to do something at which you might actually succeed.

Anyway, sorry ‘bout the fussy-pants stuff. I’m actually very pleased that I successfully removed the old, and installed the new casement window sash, even though it’s a bogus knock-off rather than being an actual Hurd replacement part. It is nice to watch the clumpy leaflets rain from the trees, NOT through a rock-sized hole in the glass.