EVERYONE WANTS TO BE OF HELP which is extraordinarily heartwarming. And of course there's little that anyone can actually do in our present situation. One lovely lady, when she heard of Bob's illness, whispered in my ear that she'd gladly do laundry for me.......I'd never in the world take her up on it, but what a precious tangible offer. Another wrote me a note telling me of her availability anytime I'd like to just sit and talk over a glass of wine. I may yet take advantage of her suggestion, when things settle down a little.
The other day I stopped at Ralph's on a hot day and the purchase of celery hearts, green onions and some tomatoes nearly did me in by the time I got home and put them into the refrigerator, but it made it possible to fix Mr. Bob one of his favorite tuna sandwiches. Along with lunch I swallowed my pride and asked Tim for a couple of hours over the weekend so that I could do a larger marketing. He does a superb job of helping and I'm grateful that one of our three offspring stayed close by. But I don't like putting all the burden of having old parents on him. He not only maintains his good nature, but also makes me chuckle.
I realized recently that what I'm yearning for just now is laughter. We're doing a fair job of maintaining positivity, but there's a streak of grimness in it.........perhaps that's the wrong word.......a staunch resolute that doesn't allow for much in the way of humor and I miss that streak of comedy terribly. I want to guffaw in an unladylike manner.....throw back my head and laugh.......what I wouldn't give for one side-clutching moment, the kind where I'm unable to stop for breath.
I can't seem to get beyond poignancy just now. There's no getting around it. Our world, as we knew it, has changed. The hiss of the oxygen tank and the bubbling sound of the concentrator are constant reminders that things are different now and while I'm grateful for the blessing of each new day, I need to find something amusing enough to bring a titter. (That thought almost made me smile, the old line of "a titter ran through the crowd" which brings to mind a lascivious old man who can't keep his hands to himself.) See? That must prove what the guy said about the possibility of my being the Smut Director here at the Manor. (For clarification, see the entry "Comic Relief" posted on June 18.)