I’m crying again as I’m touched by the noble gesture of Das Squirrel, who promised Mom that he’d take care of Dad and me. He bought us six HUGE bagels and Korean beef stuff.
Dad and I don’t care to eat, though we are forcing ourselves to enjoy leftovers lasting for many days. We don’t mind recycling the same mystery meat until finished and then we cook another batch lasting days.
Dad hasn’t eaten his fill of steamed white rice. I’m forcing myself to eat and then binging for fear of being swollen. I don’t wanna get sick either and figured just ‘fasting’ by reducing calories would do the trick.
Today, Dad and I donated more stuff – old hard cover books from 1971,1972, and 1973 and a bunch of Mom’s old prayer book, booklets and cards. The parking inside the garage is fill but there are two more stories, I think.
Yesterday, Dad and I donated to the Habitat for Humanity, which is closest to us. We managed to donate an old tool, and two computer accessories, one of which was already bought and paid for by a Mexican couple after thirty minutes of coming back for our second batch of stuff, which included only the Costco foldable, drying rack for sweaters and cloths. But we’re not going back because they are good in refusing to take old stuff that they cannot seem to sell, like an old pickax with its broken hardwood handle
So we went to the Goodwill and managed to unload the two HUGE plastic reclining chair (green and cream) and its orange cushions, two aluminum beach chairs – two with and two without dual cup holders, one old aluminum cart used for shopping at the old Berryessa Flea Market. We came back with four aluminum barstools with four brown circular cushions and four foldable freaking HARDWOOD tables and its storage stand, which we outfitted with lots of aluminum brackets as extra braces.
Now the area near the entry door from the garage is wide open and spacious. I may continue cleaning our the garage and/or the master bedroom closet, which is full of Christmas, Halloween, and health-related products.
Each day I try to keep Dad busy with errands. But he is fast getting too slow. He didn’t inherit too much dementia but I’m already feeling the effects, though almost twenty years younger. It’s in the DNA, I’m afraid and while I still can remember and enjoy stuff, I’m junking as much as possible. This is similar to what our favorite surfer did – only he made a bonfire.
Flynn B swollen with fat and junk in her trunk and closets, too.