Bear: December 2008

Okay, so I may have been accused in the past of being anal... and I'm prepared to admit that I perhaps have a slightly heightened sense of where things must go, how clean things must be, what must not be done with certain things and what must be done with others...

Oh alright... I'm anal!!!

There, satisfied?

Why such an admission? Stay tuned.

Recently I was in the laundry washing a load of my 'smalls' (socks and jocks) and Mama Bear wondered in. MB can't stand feeling left out of anything... no matter what I'm doing she's not far away.

For example;

Me: (In the bathroom doing... well it doesn't matter what I was doing) Hum hum humming.
MB: (Knocking on bathroom door) Are you in there, Bear?

A fair question you might say... but not when you consider the fact that although her memory is shot, she has no idea who most people are, she can't hold a conversation with anyone other tahn me... well not one that makes sense, she still has very keen hearing. In fact she can hear the neighbour, three doors down, leaving her house and she's up like a shot at the window to observe.

Therefore with me humming in the bathroom, MB would've known I was in there long before she left her seat in the front room. Why do I hum whilst I'm in there? Because I get performance anxiety knowing that MB can hear the sound of 'water' trickling at a hundred paces.

Okay, so back to this post.

I was in the laundry... remember? And MB wandered in...

MB: Oh laundry time.
Me: Yep.
MB: (Gazing out the window) Good day for it... I do mine on days like this.

Now I had been concerned in the past about how often MB did her laundry, and my concern was heightened when I realised that the washing machine seemed unused between the times I used it. I occasionally would mange to get her Bathrobe and PJs into the wash, she wears slacks and I've had those go through, but I never had her smalls going through and that was a worry... well it was until after me insisting that I thought that it was time they were laundered, when she told me that she hand washed them. Okay, I had no reason to doubt what she said, so nothing to be concerned about.

So back to the laundry...

MB: (Reaching down and picking up a spray pack of laundry detergent to show me...) When I do my... you know... (gesturing to her hip, meaning her knickers) I use this and spray them before I wash them in the sink.

It's funny watching her speak because if it's something she can't hold up to me, then she'll gesture towards whatever it is she's talking about. We are often in the lounge room and she'll be asking about getting a prescription filled and point toward the kitchen where the prescription sits on the bench... or we'll be in the dining room and MB will mention the need to get more toilet paper pointing toward the hall cupboard where the stock of rolls are kept.

Back to the laundry again...

But something caught my attention as we stood in front of the laundry sink talking. She didn't point to it. I was mulling over this as she turned to leave the room... when she reached the door I said...

Me: Where do you hand wash your knickers...?
MB: (Without turning to look back) I told you... (as she pointed) in the sink. (and off she went up the hall)

But she hadn't pointed over her shoulder as I expected, instead she pointed out of the laundry.

Me: (Stepping into the hall behind her... with a horrible realisation in my mind... with panic in my voice) Where...?
MB: Are you deaf...? In the sink, the sink... (and she pointed ahead of her)

She pointed ahead alright... TOWARDS THE KITCHEN...

NOOOOOOOO...

No, no, no...
Not only have I been preparing my meals in the same ROOM as she's been washing her smalls... but in the same SINK...

I feel ill...