Sleep Talking

Bonnie came over today so that I could go to a concert with a friend of my brother Fred’s. She brought her grandmother with her, and then later her friend Mary came over and they all played Bingo. I’m glad they enjoyed doing this because Mary had the time of her life and the thought of playing Bingo fills me with absolute dread. Ugh! How boring! Absolutely no critical thinking skills necessary—and therefore perfect for Mary!

Mary has said some of the funniest things lately. Of course, I always think I will remember them but have managed to forget most of them. One night as I was getting her changed for bed, she exclaimed that one of her nipples looked like someone had been sucking it. Now, isn’t that a bizarre thing to say? I told her  it hadn’t been me! She said she didn’t know who it could have been since no one had been in. It just makes you wonder sometimes if she knows, really, what she’s saying. Lots of times I wonder if she remembers from one sentence to the next what we’re talking about. I think she’s a very good faker. I’ve caught her quite a bit agreeing with me when she really shouldn’t. But, then again, I don’t know how much of it is her hearing. Man, between her hearing and her mind, she’s really screwed. It’s a wonder you can have a decent conversation with her. But as I’ve pointed out before, she’s got a great sense of humor.

One thing that really makes me laugh is the conversation we have when she points out that my hair is getting long. I’ll remark that supposedly every person has a certain length beyond which their hair won’t grow. Then she remarks in agreement that her hair never grows. Then I laugh and tell her that it’s because I keep it cut.

Sometimes I think that our conversations are so repetitive that I could just write them all down and label them A, B, C, etc. Sometimes I keep my responses to her remarks purposefully short (like, “How ‘bout that.”) because I know she’ll be repeating the remark again. She especially repeats herself if she finds something beautiful—like the weather or a top I have on.

I’ve become aware of how much time I leave her alone, while I’m cooking or cleaning. I find her distracting, so I prefer it if she doesn’t stay in the kitchen with me. Plus, I think it must be awfully boring for her. I like it most when she can sit on the back porch while I’m puttering around in the kitchen, so that she’s still close but not stuck in her wheelchair. I’ve also noticed that I often leave her for a short while without anything to do. I’m usually taking care of something and forget. However, it doesn’t seem to matter because she seems to always be able to amuse herself.

She talks in her sleep so much. Sometimes she says the funniest things—and quite loud. She yelled out one night recently, “I’m gonna wash my underarms. They’re dirty. I think I’ve been perspiring.” I was talking to her last night about how much she does this now and that I didn’t remember her doing it when I moved in. She said that maybe she talked in her sleep so much because she didn’t say much during that day. This just broke my heart. I should sit down and talk to her more often. If I do sit down, she inevitably reads me an article headline about ten times. I like to make sure that she’s got “Annie’s Mailbox” to read, so I fold the newspaper with that article showing. Unfortunately, it’s on the last page of the Features section with all the news about stars, so I inevitably end up reading all that crap that I really don’t care about, wasting my time. Argh! Why do I not seem to have enough time? I feel like I’m always busy. I should get back to writing down what I’m doing and when. It’s just like a diet. No accountability leads to sloppiness.