Yesterday, I roared in pain getting an item out of my purse while we were driving to the store. It was a quiet day with snow covering the Seattle streets, we didn't have music playing so my scream scared my sweetie and the little dog.
"Why don't you just stay home and wear oven mitts?" he suggested, halfway seriously. My sweetie is a saint of a tolerant man and I am grateful he tolerates my long winters.
If I could stay home, I would. But as 'women of a certain age' will understand, I am responsible for the care of others. My 83 year old father had a massive hemorrhage years ago, I moved in to care for him when my mother died three years ago. He dresses and showers on his own, but I am entirely responsible for meals/finances/medication, pretty much everything. Help comes part-time during the week, but she has been on hiatus for two weeks for personal reasons.
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