"The grave's a fine and private place, but none I think do there embrace." (Andrew Marvell)

Rho is almost all over her bout with pneumonia. Luckily, she recognized her symptoms and caught the bugger in time. While she was ill, it made me wonder what life would be like without her. Actually, the thought really never occurred to me before-- considering the fact that I'm 14 years older than she is. But let's fantasize a little about that scary possibility, and I suppose,sadly, that it is a possibility. First of all, let's begin with the process of waking up in the morning. (Why is it waking "up" and not waking "down"?) O.K., let's not go there. Anyway, I know that most mornings Rho "makes" the bed. That bit of frazzled linguistics always puzzled me; it is my understanding that someone has already made the bed...and that fact allows us to sleep in it. I believe that what is meant is to "neaten" the covers or something to that effect. But as far as I'm concerned, if I'm living alone, I wouldn't care about neatening the covers. Just get into the already made bed and pull the covers over you neatly--or not. It's no big deal. Don't need a wife for that. It's a man thing.

OK. So far, it's working (except for the messy bed--but who sees it?). I usually get out of bed about 11:30a.m., wash up, get into the kitchen, and take a puff out of my "puffer". Have to do that according to her because I have COPD (chronic obstructive pulmonary disease...not an addiction to cannabis). Then I read the newspaper, sports page first...the rest is minor stuff like what Bush has to say. I get most of my world news off the internet, anyway. After doing the x-word puzzle, I take my morning pills with some apple juice. By this time, it's about 1:30 and I'm ready for breakfast. Now this is where I'm in trouble. Rhoda fills our pill boxes every week with the right pills in each box. Now, if she's not around, I haven't the slightest idea of what pills I'm taking nor when to take them--Monday to Sunday? Morning, noon, or night? So what to do? My plan is to stop taking any pills at all, and as symptoms pile up, I go to the VA doctor and he starts me on the right pills. Now I'm living, and I know when the pills are to be taken. But I can't find the pill box.

For breakfast, there's nothing in the fridge, because I can't walk up and down those isles buying stuff...but I can go out. It'll only cost me half of what it would have cost me if she was around, so I can afford it. What about the laundry? She's very good at sorting black from white, red from blue, green from brown, and all colors ad absurdum before putting them in the wash. If I were to do the laundry, I fear that she would be looking over my shoulder, so that's a good excuse for me not doing the laundry. I would take them to the Chinese laundry...except I don't know where to find one. I suppose I'd just leave the bundle at my favorite Chinese restaurant. They'd get the idea.

I really don't want to continue this discourse because it's making me nervous and exacerbating not only my PTSD and my COPD, but all my other D's including my PD. So, I suppose the solution and cure for these symptoms is for me to go first. Gladly. And as Hamlet would say, "...the rest is silence."