The plot has been officially lost
In our house, I’m sorry to say, the plot has been officially lost. Yesterday morning, after breakfast, Mum got into a bit of a flap.
Mum: “Have you done your work for this week’s canine enrichment demonstration, Wilma?”
Me: “Er, no.”
Mum: “Oh dear, you’re leaving it a bit late. I haven’t got much time to help you today. What are you going to do?”
Me: “Well, I was going to do it with you on Thursday as we normally do.”
Mum: “But it’s already Friday and you need to write it up.”
What day is it?
At this point, I sat Mum down and passed her a cup of coffee. “What day is it?” I asked.
“Friday,” she said with complete confidence.
“What day is it?” I can be a very patient dog when the need arises.
“Friday,” Mum repeated as though I was stupid.
At this point things were getting difficult. I went and fetched her mobile phone. “What day is it?”
This was the point at which she deflated slightly. On the one paw, Mum is worried about lock-down ending and what that’s going to mean, given her immune system is pretty much useless. On the other paw, for the sake of her sanity, it probably can’t come soon enough. I’m going to need some help with her rehabilitation. I can see that. I don’t really know where to start. This is not going to be an easy process. She’s pretty far gone.
Today my main job is to supervise the replacement of the batteries in all parts of the weather station. That is not as easy as it sounds. Some parts involve climbing ladders, others will just need a screwdriver and the right size of battery. I might see if Mum can face doing the outside clock while we’re at it. I think the first part of her rehabilitation should be getting day to day things in working order. We’ll worry about days of the week and dealing with people later.