Any drama I was spared when telling The Writer I was leaving may be slowly worming it's way back in.
For the past two days, The Writer's stress level has been rising slowly but surely. Her mechanism for dealing with stress is most often sleep. hours and hours of sleep. So when I arrived today and she told me she was really tired and might need to nap, I knew I was in for a bumpy ride of a day.
Most of my time was spent trying to keep The Writer on task, remind her constantly of what she was doing and playing the "word guessing game" because when she is stressed The Writer forgets her words (she had a stroke when she was younger), and decipher her jumbled trains of thought.
It's sort of comical to even me at times.
The Writer: Oh, I really need you to get the. . .the. . .
Me (scanning the room for what triggered her thought): Paper? Pen? Book? Cat??
The Writer: No, uhh, come one think, think. . .
Me: Umm. . . Budget? Mail. . .? (After awhile I start stretching for things) the letters you need to send?
The Writer? YES! That's it!
I scurry off to get the letter and return
The Writer: . . .Oh, thanks hun. What are these for?
Me: you wanted them for . . .something. . .?
The Writer: OK. Umm, let's do that later. . .(she clearly has no clue why she needed them and then we head off on another guessing game)
About an hour later, she'll ask me if we ever got the letters ready to mail out. Which of course we didn't because they're sitting on the bottom of a pile of things I've been collecting all day.
**************
Speaking of words, I seem to be having trouble remembering mine. EEK! I think The Writer rubbed off on me. I just reread this and had to change several things that made NO sense.
Before I go, though, let me apologize for my blog post late Tuesday night. I was clearly deranged with tiredness as evidenced by my lengthy stream-of-consciousness discussion about my new daffodil pillow. Now you all know what happens when I get tired. It's not pretty. But boy is is chatty!
For the past two days, The Writer's stress level has been rising slowly but surely. Her mechanism for dealing with stress is most often sleep. hours and hours of sleep. So when I arrived today and she told me she was really tired and might need to nap, I knew I was in for a bumpy ride of a day.
Most of my time was spent trying to keep The Writer on task, remind her constantly of what she was doing and playing the "word guessing game" because when she is stressed The Writer forgets her words (she had a stroke when she was younger), and decipher her jumbled trains of thought.
It's sort of comical to even me at times.
The Writer: Oh, I really need you to get the. . .the. . .
Me (scanning the room for what triggered her thought): Paper? Pen? Book? Cat??
The Writer: No, uhh, come one think, think. . .
Me: Umm. . . Budget? Mail. . .? (After awhile I start stretching for things) the letters you need to send?
The Writer? YES! That's it!
I scurry off to get the letter and return
The Writer: . . .Oh, thanks hun. What are these for?
Me: you wanted them for . . .something. . .?
The Writer: OK. Umm, let's do that later. . .(she clearly has no clue why she needed them and then we head off on another guessing game)
About an hour later, she'll ask me if we ever got the letters ready to mail out. Which of course we didn't because they're sitting on the bottom of a pile of things I've been collecting all day.
**************
Speaking of words, I seem to be having trouble remembering mine. EEK! I think The Writer rubbed off on me. I just reread this and had to change several things that made NO sense.
Before I go, though, let me apologize for my blog post late Tuesday night. I was clearly deranged with tiredness as evidenced by my lengthy stream-of-consciousness discussion about my new daffodil pillow. Now you all know what happens when I get tired. It's not pretty. But boy is is chatty!
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