The title was supposed to read "Then The Roof Fell In", but I've had this weird thing that happens in the title line that turns my writing into Urdu or some such.
I'm still coping by laying low. After the bout with George last week, I went to the Mango Post Office to pick up my mail Wednesday p.m. There was yellow police tape all around, official postal vehicles and inspectors, and a mess in the lobby. Seems the roof fell in under the weight of water from the afternoon storms we sometimes get here in the tropics.
Went to the temporary site to see if I could pick up mail and the first thing I said to Mitzi and Linda was that I had nothing to do with it and didn't touch anything. I'm trying to protect others by not getting around them so whatever I have doesn't rub off.
George is holding. I can tell that her coordination is affected and she does not have the power she had before the tea tree oil to make the beautiful jumps she could do. She's still staying close to me and is eating. She misses Loverboy terribly. So do I.
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5 comments:
Pam, It would be funny if it weren't all so fresh and painful. I know I'm just honing my survival skills, but I'd like a little less intensive course load! BTW, did I mention the car trouble?
I actually have seen the Es you sent me on the Tunisian and want to put one here on Deepwater as a link to YOUR blog where you publish the tute. Just was trying to get a little more vinegar back in my veins before I did it.
I hope George continues to improve. I'm sure a lot of it is her missing Loverboy.
Martha,
I think you're right about the depression with George. She is very mopey still but has quit calling and looking for him. I've started to let her spend the day up on the roof again to try to stimulate what's left of her poor brain.
Thanks all for your thoughts.
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