Is it a sign of old age, or simply stupidity...

... when you crap yourself and don't even realize it?

Today has been a busy day, and one that started with a killer headache.  So after waking up late and groggy from the meds, breakfast out with my sweet four lovies, and resting a bit, I began to tackle the seemingly never-ending task of re-ordering the basement while Robert napped.

From time to time I would get a whiff of something unpleasant.

Something... poo-ish.

I looked around for a pile of dog poo, knowing that dear Wookiee surely knows better, but you know, maybe he had an accident.

Finding none, I looked around for a dead animal.  Unlikely, sure, but you know we had a mouse run in the house one time, and... who knows?  Again, I found nothing.

I worked for several hours.  Again, and only occasionally, I would smell it.  I even joked to Ro when he came down, "Maybe it's just me.  Maybe I have bad BO."  But this didn't smell like BO. It smelled like crap.

Eventually I went in to use the potty.  Pulled my pants down, sat down, and OH.MY.WORD. found that at some point during the day I had managed to crap my pants!

I had no tummy issues, no juicy farts, no squishyness or that warm, wet feeling that you would expect would tip me off.  The only clue I had was the smell.   And obviously Nancy Drew I am not.

Go ahead and laugh.  I did.  I'm horrified, of course, and thankful that I didn't smell poo while we were at the restaurant or that I wasn't doing a show for my unspecified business endeavor smelling like that.  I'm thankful that Ro and I weren't on our way to romance, or that I wasn't in a car wreck or something which is why grandma always said to make sure you have on clean underwear.

Which I do, at the moment.  In fact, I just checked.

Slowly, but surely, we're getting there.

It may be our second full week home, but we are just beginning to settle into a routine.

Correction:  I am just beginning to settle into said routine.  I suppose it could be said that the kids settled when they went back to school, Ro when he went back to work.  But I've had kind of a hard time settling in, actually. 

Although the kids and Ro went back to school and work right away, I've yet to make it back to church.  And I went back to BSF today for the first time since before Christmas.  That, actually, did me a lot of good.  It was good for fellowship and even better for chewing on God's Word, and it makes me hungry for more.  Church this weekend, definitely.

Deb helped us move our bed from the basement to our bedroom right away... but much of Pop's stuff has been piled here and there, and the rest of our stuff from the basement has been piled here and there ~ ie all over our bedroom floor.  Ro and I dug in today and got our bedroom in order... tomorrow I think I will try to move our basement bathroom stuff back upstairs and maybe tackle the basement.

Or maybe not.

It makes me tired to just think about it.

One of the nicest things, though, has been sitting around the table at dinner, the five of us, for dinner the past two nights.  It's been pleasant, relaxing, stress-free... awesome.

Too much thinking now... time for bed.

I think he's gonna live.

Just a moment ago, I paused, looking at my desk, trying to decide what to tackle next.  I got a lot done today.  Well, not a lot by normal standards, but a lot compared to recent activity.  Anyway, Wookiee caught my eye; he walked over to his basket sitting on the treadmill, jumped on, and fetched his football.

Good sign.

Let me back up.  When we arrived home from California, Ro had left an array of goodies for us as welcome home gifts:  a stuffed bunny for Grace; Legos for Joshua; earrings for Chris; Coke for Mom; flowers and candy for me. 

Yesterday I decided to enjoy said candy.  It was a Ghirardelli chocolate bar, king-sized, dark, 73% cacao.  I broke off a piece of it and tasted it - actually didn't care for it much.  Let Grace have a sample - same thing.

But one did enjoy it - every last bite. 

I came in a few hours later to find the remainder of the bar - about 3 ounces - gone, the wrapper licked clean, the foil in scraps all over the floor.  Wookiee.  He seemed fine; he was playful, so I didn't worry too much. Ro thought he'd probably get some diarrhea or something. Anyway, no reason to panic, right?

As we turned into bed, Wookiee puked on the comforter.  Fine, no big deal; he just ate a lot of chocolate, even by my standards.  I was up later reading and he puked again - bigger and uglier.  When I went back to bed, he continued to vomit occasionally, choking as he did so. 

Scared me.

See, everyone knows that I love that mutt.  However, when Pop was in his last two weeks, Wookiee never left my side except to go out and pee or eat.  He was constantly either at my feet in Pop's room, or in my lap, or laying beside Pop's bed.  He didn't bring me toys to play with; he just simply sat there.

Who would've known what a comfort a silly mutt could bring?  But he did.  His constance, his quietness, his sense of what was happening ~ it bonded to me closer than ever.

So the thought last night that he might truly have some of the effects of chocolate toxins I've heard about scared the crap out of me.

Ro was sound asleep but I was afraid.  Got out of bed at 2:30 in the morning and Googled "What if my dog ate a chocolate bar?"  The results were not encouraging.  Dogs Wookiee's size could expect adverse and even fatal reactions with less than half an ounce - Wookiee had consumed 3 ounces!  I was beginning to panic, and I finally found a live emergency vet who answers questions online. 

It was $38 - but it gave me peace of mind.  He told me what to watch for, and that Wookiee would probably be fine.  I felt better and was able to sleep, although I kept waking up every time the dog moved.  Sheesh. 

Anyway, Wookiee has been listless and very, very tired today.  He hasn't wanted to play or do much of anything, but seeing him go over and pick out a toy a bit ago is encouraging.  Ro said he was excited when he got home, so it looks like he's gonna live.

Good thing, because if he'd died from this... I would really be a basket case.

It's weird.

Quiet. 

Different.

Bittersweet.

I am overwhelmed with the things that call for my attention:  the piles of stuff hastily strewn about the basement in an effort to re-do the master bedroom for Ro and me again; the piles of laundry thrown down following our trip; the piles of bills and paperwork in my basket that need to be sorted, paid, filed, or thrown; the piles of bills and paperwork in Pop's basket.

Sometimes I just stare at it all, wonder where to begin, and walk back out.

I can shut the door.  Put up the CLOSED sign.  Pick up a book.  Forget it for another day.

I do not miss planning everything around him.  I do not miss having to have someone always here for him.  I do not miss buying Circus Peanuts or Little Debbies, coordinating office visits and logging bowel movements.

I do miss him just being here.

And though he was here for only a short time, his presence is everywhere - in the basement now, where many of his things have landed; in the fireplace room, where his chair sits empty unless I occupy it myself with a book to escape; obviously in our room / his room / our room again; in the market by the bananas and cookies and yogurt; in the car where the cushion for his wheelchair still sits.

The kids haven't said too much.  I think, like me, it just feels weird.  Different.  This is the first time in nearly a year and a half it's just been the five of us.  Last night was the first time since he's been gone that just the five of us sat down for dinner together.  Pop's spot at the end of the table was empty.

Weird.

Tomorrow would be his 91st birthday.  We didn't even have time to make plans for the celebration; shortly after Mom and Deb told him they'd be back for it he began to decline.  They won't be here now.  Just us now, the five of us.  Maybe for dinner we'll grill Spam.  Have apple and banana salad.  Molasses cookies.  Lemonade.  Vanilla ice cream.  SOS ~ although I never did learn to make it the way the Army did.

I need to find another book.