they come so quickly and they go so slowly

July 7 is almost over. Another hot one.

My wonderful cleaning man came today.He does some laundry too, which is a blessing. I get up early and prepare for him. i strip the bed and take the cover off the duvet, put out the fresh cover and sheets and pillowcases for him to reassemble my bed. I can’t get the fitted bottom sheet on the mattress and I can’t get the clean cover on the duvet (or fold it). So he launders my bedding and makes the bed for me. I do the prep because I don’t want to take away his cleaning time. There are so many things I cannot do now.

My son John is watching me as I become more and more incompetent. When I can no longer do for myself, I must go into a home. Not yet, not yet. I have things I must do before I leave.

My files. It’s taking time but I‘m going through them, preparing my last shipment to the university (Manitoba) archives. It’s slow work, but a pleasure.

Now We Are Twelve. This is—will be—my last book. My friend and mentor, Richard, suggested it to me as he has done for a couple of others in the past. It will be a memoir of the first twelve years of my life. I’ve been working on it, have started a file and filling it with notes—each scrap of paper labelled 12—of memories as I come upon them. Or they lie in wait for me. I am discovering things I didn’t know I knew. Also slow, also a pleasure.

It’s after 2 a.m.

Tomorrow is another day.

where did 5 go?

I guess I threw it away. NYTs on the balcony. Swimming outdoors. Talking to people on the pool deck. (I usually never see people during the day, some times for days.). Eating corn on the cob—very time consuming! Cooling off on the balcony by candle-light. Sleeping.

Hey, it was hot.

Later: it was hot today too. I swam outside and did some laundry. I’m actually beginning to forgive myself if I don’t do any work.

Tomorrow—more files.