What We Don't Remember (Doesn't Hurt Us)

October was intermittently hellish, but a lot of progress was made, nonetheless. (I'll have to search my email confidentials to retrace those steps, and publish in arrears, if ever... But this is how today is starting):

********************

Hearing kitchen noise at 6:40AM, I went in to find Hunk carrying his bowl of porridge back to their bedroom. I follow, noting that he was wearing sweat pants -- a sign that maybe he'd gotten changed already. Yea!! Checking out his bathroom wastebasket I found two pairs of sopping wet Depends and thought, great, Bitchy actually pulled it off (for once in a long while!).

"So, you got him changed already, huh?" I asked as I carried the plastic bag past her, once she was settled on her side of their king-sized bed, ready to eat the breakfast she made, and watch election returns.

"Yeah," she answered cheerfully.

"Great. And it looks like you managed fine last night, while I was at Stitch&Bitch?" Her happy demeanor made me hopeful.

"Yes, well, no... I have a feeling it was a terrible night, but I can't remember!"

"Ah, well, that's a blessing then, huh?" I sighed, greatful (again) for her impending dementia...