Miniature Moth Orchids, blooming
“With any luck at all, they’ll have a special line for seniors,” David chuckles as he leaves the house for the DMV. As usual he’s waited until the last day of the month when his license expires. I suppose it is his license, I didn’t ask. It might be his handicapped card, or something else. I used the online service months ago, and all my tags, stickers and plates are current. (OK, I know, I’m a goody two-shoes.)
That’s one difference between us, I am the organized planner, he is not. David is the spontaneous, creative extrovert. I am the studious introvert. I am neat, he is not. I constantly quote Ann Landers to him…a place for everything, and everything in its place. To get along, we have mapped territories in the house and yard. If he uses “my” garden shed or kitchen he must put things back where they belong (cleaning them first if necessary) or leave them on the porch table or the stove, and I will put them away later.
Ines, who cleans our house every two weeks,is excellent. Over time she and her helper have learned how to work around David, although one of her helpers quit when he accused her of stealing his toilet brush.
I have moved all the tax records, bills etc. to my downstairs desk. I take care of them, so he has no excuse to “store” paper in his room. Left to his own devices, David would have a bedroom like the Collier brothers. For those who don’t remember, they were the brothers who died in their cluttered house in NYC.
I wasn’t always a Felix Unger. When I was younger, my father went on periodic cleaning rampages through the house, including my bedroom where he chucked all my “treasures” in the garbage. It did little good, because I turned my bedroom back into a pig sty before he could say Jack Robinson.
My first husband was a Marine Sgt, so neat that the other Marines in the barracks wrote a poem about him. My second husband, an Army Colonel, was just as bad. David fooled me. His apartment was spick and span when I met him. Little did I know what lurked beneath.
Over time, we have compromised on most things. He doesn’t cook or clean, but he will mow the yard and shop for groceries. He also remembers to feed the dogs.
Although Dr. McConnell had ordered two more months of therapy, Justin and I agreed this morning that Thursday will be my last day. I am healing nicely, and though I have some swelling in my knee, it will dissipate over time. I am pleased with this decision, as I am very tired of spending time at the hospital center. What a drag. I just hope I have the stamina to get around the San Diego zoo in a few weeks.
As fall approaches, the garden is turning all sorts of colors, while migrating Warblers serenade us from the Holly and Viburnum shrubs where they find nourishment for their journey. Today, I will call Merrifield Nursery to schedule a fall cleanup.
I have brought several plants inside, and made a space for the Geraniums under the plant stand where they will reside all winter.
Meanwhile, the Moth Orchids I bought last winter are setting buds and beginning to bloom. I think I have finally mastered the art of keeping them alive, thanks to Dr. Gaspar.