I don’t like this. Not one bit.
We went to see a play the other night, something Dad always likes to do. This isn’t exactly a time-in-the-barrel assignment for me ’cause I enjoy it, but there are a couple of alarming things. From the journal:
He wasn’t as social as before, and he looked lost. Almost getting to where he really has no business going out, but what am I supposed to do? Hide him? Lock him in the bedroom and shove bread and water under the door? Stick him in The Home? Over my dead body on all three.
I’ll unpack this one another time. Too depressing to think about now.
This also complicates things when I want to take off for an evening. Like I have a one-night gig in another town (I’m a working musician), and my original plan was to bring him. Not so:
Now I’m beginning to wonder if I can actually make it out to Bellflower without incident & leave him home. No way can I bring him; the travel will be too much for him. By the time we get there he’ll be for crap.
About the only thing I can think of is prepare in advance. This means:
- His phone charged up.
- I’m on speed dial.
- Dinner in the freezer. It’s one of those microwavable meals he likes, and it’ll be right there in front where he can see it.
- I should clue in the neighbors so they can stop by and say hello, or let me know if anything really weird happens.
- His stereo’s on and cranked up the way he likes it.
- Thank God he’s not prone to wandering off the property.
Do I feel bad about leaving him like this? Uhh, yeah. But he’ll be okay.