Member-only story
Why Is The Hall Floor Rug On Your Bed?
The Slow Erosion of My Husband’s Mind
I am standing in front of the kitchen sink watching a woodchuck through a drain-streaked window when my husband appears.
“Did you remove the rat I shot earlier? I can’t see it,” says he peering over my shoulder into the rainy backyard. My husband keeps a gun leaning against the wall in the first floor bathroom, a room that overlooks the area where most of our feeders are located. Bird seed is a attraction for rodents, some cute like chipmunks, but, unfortunately, also unwelcome rats.
“No” I reply. “I didn’t know about the rat and I have not been outside. It is raining.”
“Ok” he mutters as he disappears out the door without a jacket or hat. Within minutes he reappears announcing he didn’t know it was raining.
After throwing on rain gear, he leaves to grocery shop. I carry clean towels into the bathroom to discover he forgot to put in his teeth. It is better for him to forget his teeth than his wallet, something he does frequently. He will remember his teeth when he sits down for lunch
Here is the crux of his mental state these days. He is unaware. Unaware of so much and prone to anger if spills, tracked in mud, forgotten food, or a myriad of whatever is brought to his attention. It is…
