Further signs that I have taken leave of my senses

We had to get up really early today. Not Kayte's sort of early, mind you. She gets up to take one of her sons to swim practice every day at an hour that I consider ungodly and fit only for bathroom breaks, not getting into the car and driving to the swimming pool, but I digress. We had to get up at 8:30 to take Aisling to her piano lesson. I was up very, very late last night.

After piano, we went to my parents' house for lunch and card playing and I lost Hand & Foot by many thousands of points for about the millionth week in a row. The we drove to the nursing home and spent forty-five minutes visiting with our grandparents and then another half an hour standing and talking to my friend Beth, the hospice nurse whose motto is, "If you've seen one tushie, you've seen them all."

By the time we got home, I was tired. I hauled myself ungracefully out of the van, feeling grateful for all the rain that had fallen so that I wouldn't have to water the flowers. And then, as if it was something I do every day, almost by instinct, I pointed my van's remote key fob at the house and pressed UNLOCK DOOR.

Totally as if I expected the back door of the house to fly open.

It didn't work.

Meelyn and Aisling looked at me as if I'd snapped my twigs.

"I meant to do that," I said, gathering the shreds of my dignity around me and sweeping regally across the gravel swatch into the house.