I don’t think I’ll do that again. Spend so much time in Prince Edward Island again, I mean. Two months with one or two weeks of turmoil in the middle is not a good idea. Somehow, after my daughter and family left, everything went flat, or was flattened. And then we had to close up the houses. Now that I’ve done it, with help I must add, it doesn’t seem overwhelming. But at the time, it was. Lots of company, followed by nobody, including a list of jobs to do and share–with a man who doesn’t always wear his hearing aids–well….
But I realize that it was the dread of the flight back that mostly did me in. And it turned out that our tasks for closing weren’t onerous, and I carefully made sure I was rested, but by the time we sat in our seats for our Boston flight from Montreal, we were both exhausted. Or I was. We still had to pick up our bags and wait for our Logan Express bus, ride it to Natick, rescue our bags, wait for our driver, who showed up a few minutes later and have her drive us to Brooklyn, Connecticut.
We were disoriented. The house on the outside and inside looked so strange. Bernie kept feeling that he should call the desk and ask for the check-out time. What was it I should remember about the sink? Oh, yes, the water tasted bad and so I needed that strange apparatus on the faucet which made the water taste better. Only, the water tasted ok…it must be the temperature. I called the desk the next day and complained. the head of maintenance came and ran the water. Nope, that’s the temperature. “You must be used to that ocean.”
Huh? It took me awhile to understand him. A minute after he’d left, I wanted to say, oh, no, it’s our well water in PEI. It’s lovely and cold.
It’s okay now; I’m rested. The cold I got on the plane has gone and is with Bernie now. I’m peppy enough to go to a doctor’s appointment to find it was cancelled and not mind much.
But next year will be different.



Well, they’ve all gone and left us alone. Finally. Of course, I feel a little let down. Couldn’t they have gone one at a time? Instead they leave in a group, 2 or 4 at a time.
Our daughter and her family were the last to leave this morning. She spent hours cleaning and getting the old house to rights again. We’ll half close it up and let Coleen and Norm finish it, along with the plumber. He’s been here already. Our cold water tank sweats. I thought all cold water tanks sweat, but no, they are not supposed to. So the plumber wrapped some kind of aluminum foil around it.
And of course, it’s cloudy with rain forecast tomorrow. But! I have my novels to read and the library is open tomorrow and Saturday if I need more. There’s always more. I’ll soon cheer up again.
Now to check our airline reservation.

Tired Arms

Lord! Don’t get old. It’s bad news. Or shall I quote my mother: Elinor, getting old is no fun.
But it’s possible to fight back. I’ve started my counterattack.
A couple of weeks ago, I realized my arms felt weak; I had a hard time lifting a stack of washed dinner plates to a shelf.
I had to sit down. This was it. I was going downhill faster than I thought. So I lay down. (Or is it lie down? Yes it is.) (Just wanted to get that passive tense in there.)
Then I remembered the story of my high school friend’s sister. After her husband died, she sold her house and went into a nursing home. There was nothing wrong with her. After a couple of months of trying to get her out of bed to play bingo, etc., they released her.
She moved to another nursing home.
The story made me uneasy. That someone could do that. Choose to lie in bed.
I got up and got out my three pound weights I hadn’t touched in a month and started a workout.
No more weak muscles.