“There are Some Good Things to be said about Dementia”

Thank god I live in an old folk’s condominium complex. Jim just hates it when I call this place that. He says it makes us sound old. This is an Active Adult Community he says. Yeah right, whatever!

Truth is several residents here, just like me, have lapses of memory. Thank goodness it’s a blessing really. Many of them can’t remember my name much less if we did or didn’t have a run-in 6 months ago.

Take Bee for instance. You remember Bee don’t you? Yes, you’re right I did say I wasn’t going to tell stories about actual living people anymore… but hey, how boring is that?

Besides it’s really all about me anyway. Isn’t it?  

Driving Miss Daisy

I came home the other day to find my garage door wide open and Bee setting in her Scoot-Around-Chair, parked in the middle of my driveway.

With that annoying little yipping dog of hers tied to one end of a rope she was holding in her hand. For some reason I can never remember its name. What is it's name? Oh yeah, it’s Miss Daisy!

Bee was noticeably frantic. I had barely gotten out of the car before she blurted out I’ve been here for hours guarding the stuff in your garage.

You must have driven off and left it open she said her voice sounded accusing. Or maybe it sounded reprimanding.

Either way, whatever her inflection her words momentarily made my skin feel flush and the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end.

Bee was exaggerating. I had been out running errands but I'd hardly been gone for hours. I was sure I had watched the garage door close as I drove away. So, I thought to myself what in the world could have happened after I left.

I was on my way to take Daisy for her morning walk in the park Bee continued. But when I dumped my trash I noticed your garage door open.

The whole time Bee's talking Daisy's running around in a circle chasing her tail, yipping and growling at me all at the same time like she always does whenever she sees me.

Come to think of it… it seems like all the old ladies here have a little yipping dog. Call me anti-social if you must but I just hate yipping dogs.

The Belles (that’s what the women here like to call themselves) even organized “a Doggie Day at the Park.” Really, I’m serious they dress their dogs up in tiny little doggie togs and parade them around the park like a Toddlers and Tiaras Beauty Pageant.

Now, I’m asking you… how precious is that? Truthfully, I think they look ridiculous. I’m almost embarrassed for them. And from the mess they leave behind it might as well be called “Puppy Pup in the Park Day.”

Anyway, back to my story.

I thought you’d never come back she said. Daisy has got to go and she’ll only go in the park. (See, it figures.  I just pray she takes a bag and a pupper-scooper with her).

I was on my way to take her when I saw your garage open Bee repeated. Somebody could have gotten in and taken your stuff. Take my stuff… are you kidding me? I almost laughed out load.  

First of all, everybody here is at least 60. Many of them, like us, lived in a big house with a lot of rooms and a boat load of STUFF before moving here. And obviously by the looks of their garages they were unable to part with any of it.

Seriously, their garages are stuffed with all kinds of things. Boxes stacked to the ceiling, dining room furniture, coaches, recliners, TVs, even box springs and mattresses.

One guy even sits in his recliner, in his garage and watches his TV. Another guy has a rolled up carpet on top of an old car. Really would I lie to you? No, it’s not a priceless Persian area rug… it’s just a big piece of rolled up beige carpet.

You know what it looks like to me? One of those old abandon cars parked on the side of a house, you’ve seen ‘em, all rusted, tires gone flat with weeds ‘n’ grass grown up underneath.

I mean really… these are supposed to be luxury condominium and he keeps a rusted out car and old carpeting in his garage.  What’s up with that?

Now I ask you… Bee said someone might “take my stuff.” With so much stuff of their own why in the world would anyone living here steal the junk from my garage that I was supposed to take to the Goodwill months ago? Lol, lol

Anyway on with my story… I couldn’t even get a word in edge wise with Bee. She was so excited and talking so fast I thought for a minute she was the one that had to go pooh in the park.

But Bee’s curiosity got the best of her so she calmed down and stayed to watch as I try to close the door. I pushed the button several times but the darn thing would get about half way down and then just go right back up.

Oh, I said to Bee that must have been what had happened when I drove away “hours” ago.  I knew I had stopped to watch it close before driving away.  

Huuue, thank god, my wiring is not totally fried… though the other day I did put a dish towel in the spoon drawer.

Anyway, nothing was blocking the doors sensors so I couldn’t understand why it wouldn’t close. Bee insisted she search the complex to “find a man to help me” she said. Ah… OK now, Bee doesn’t know me very well does she?

I don’t need a man to help me I said trying hard not to sound annoyed at the thought. I’m perfectly capable of figuring this out for myself, but thanks for the suggestion?

Translation: bug off Bee… go drive Miss Daisy … I’ve got this!!!

Actually It was no big mystery turns out a bolt on one of the track had come loose. I couldn’t find our toolbox. I’ll bet it’s underneath all those Christmas boxes I haven’t put away. I really should get that done this weekend.

I guess with all the vibration of the door opening and closing over time the bolt had just worked it’s self loose… Anyway, holding the nut with one hand I tightened the blot with the other and the door closed just fine.

The Tipping Point, The Last Straw, Back Against the Wall, My Moment of Truth

I suppose there come a time in every person’s life when they come to the edge of the cliff and there is only thing left to do… take that proverbial “leap of faith.”

To be continued…

Thanks for listening, love ya, Susann

Write to me… at lemminaide@gmail.com