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Ted
Cate
A
Personal Journal Reflecting On Aging
June 13 | June 14
June
13: Facing Extended Care
Normal Wednesday, I having breakfast downtown and Phyllis
Ann water jogging at the Y. Having finished my book, and as Leslie
Stahl puts it, gone into "book mourning," I attacked
my computer-networking problem. Inasmuch as the new modem and
router were both made in Taiwan, you can imagine how the instructions
read. I need something as simple as "place the round peg
in the round hole," but I get instructions that start out
with, "If use the USB interface . . ." I took time out
to purchase another 25-foot cable for connecting the two computers
together but until I figure out how to program the computers,
it is going to be of little help.
The afternoon was equally frustrating inasmuch as Phyllis
Ann has had extended-care insurance in the back of her head
for some time. Having received one quote, it was no more than
fair to ask for a second opinion. This second representative
was better-looking than the first one and was of the fairer
sex. I was sold as soon as she walked in. Besides, she liked
my dog and had two hunting dogs of her own. Facing the future
need of extended care is never pleasant and it always boils
down to how much money do you want to gamble on needing it.
No one ever mentions that suicide is a viable option, and
you never know for sure if you will be in condition to implement
it if it is justified. I'm always saddened when a young person
turns to suicide inasmuch as suicide is a permanent solution
to a temporary problem. This axiom loses some of its meaning
for the senior citizens who are facing death in the foreseeable
future.
June
14: Storm Damage
After two nights of threatening weather, we are in
need of a good night's sleep. Even the dog is tuckered out
inasmuch as she is afraid of thunder. I have no trouble sleeping
through such threatening weather because I know there is nothing
I can do about it. I lose sleep because of the rest of the
household waking me to inform me that we have lost power,
that the emergency light on the sewage lift station located
in the city park across the street is blinking, the dog jumping
onto the bed for comforting, Phyllis Ann finally coming to
bed, Phyllis Ann changing beds because there isn't enough
room in the bed for all three of us.
Most people are surprised to find out that a hunting dog (German
short-hair pointer) is afraid of thunder. Let a shotgun go
off within earshot and she is ready to retrieve, but a roll
of thunder sets her whining and headed for the basement. It
wouldn't be so bad if she went alone, but she insists on my
accompanying her. Have you ever tried sleeping with an 80-pound
dog that has legs resembling steel fenceposts? I now know
what an expectant mother must go through during the last few
weeks of her pregnancy, when she is getting kicked and buffeted
throughout the night by the unborn little one.
Inspection of the premises resulted in no obvious damage due
to our freaky weather, but a new supply of small limbs and
twigs have materialized. I should have counted the branches
and twigs I've picked up this year. I know it must have been
in the millions. The neighbor has a large branch down so it
looks like I can get my chainsaw out and do a little sawing.
I have to agree with the axiom that implies that such shedding
of branches and twigs as a result of inclement weather is
Mother Nature's way of pruning the trees.
After countless hours of diddling with my computers, their
modems, and router, I finally faced the fact that I didn't
really know what I was doing and called the computer man.
Thank goodness they make house calls.
Journal
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