I say Henry's okay...

At 8 this evening I dozed thru a good lecture about CARE and the work they do. Left right away, was in bed by 9:15. Read a little - new treat, a pattern book for crochet with beads. No sleep.

A melatonin, and as much of a sudoku game on my phone as I could do. Sleepy, sleepy...

Imagined visions of Dad falling over, taking the top off the fake Christmas tree. Of Frances driving. Of her knocking over a candle - I must get them a kitchen fire blanket. Dad will view it with distain. Rehashed the surprisingly loud discussion this evening with them, conducted over the hateful pizza that only makes us fat! but is brought to the door.

So now, Blog as lullaby. I went to see Narnia this afternoon, non-alcoholic escape from the twin hurt of protracted leaving and them so old. But faced music at tea time: when are we going to see care facilities? Has to be soon....

But they've decided they don't need to; they know which one they want any way. Does it allow couples to stay together? To have more than just bedrooms? Does it have a waiting list? Stunned faces on them.

Dad countered with wondering what the urgency is - they aren't ready now anyway. Sigh - it's when I have to repeat the difficult lines of argument that I get impatient. The reason is to be on the waiting list; to know they can afford it; to be able to focus on the move, the choice having already been made.

Father jumps the logic (which I've typed here more reasonably than I said it), to laughing about getting in a house clearer. Up I rise - but not until I'm here! He laughed! We had to go thru it a second and third time before he said, You're serious!

I didn't remind him of how little they did for the last move, how much of the clearing was done by the loyal band helping them, as part of the move. I couldn't pull together words, 'to make sure you've got what you want to take, that friends and family have got what they want, and that the clearers only get what's left'. I couldn't say, I want to be here to help, to make it easier for you.

Instead I castigated them for not telling me about the last move until contracts and money had changed hands. What would I have done? Nothing, really, if their minds were made up.

Good things: shorter, bouncier hair smelling of fine oils; a real car to drive; Narnia; helping to put Christmas boxes away. A word-of-mouth What's Next? enquiry - horoscope says New Business Could Take Off. Friends inviting me to dinner. Dad's admiration of me for being a good friend. My scheduling for vacating the flat still looks okay. I have a neat Louisville tour tomorrow!

Unless it's just the intractibility of the situation, going back to the UK and leaving them to their self-built and chosen fates (maybe a projection of fault will help...), there is still something underneath going on, keeping me awake.

Henry's snoring....