Trash day, another week is gone!

Almost every day, first thing, I tell myself what day it is. I tell myself on Wednesday night, "Tomorrow is trash day!"

And so this morning I was ready for it.

Of late the cat has taken no notice of me in the morning, even saying nothing when I pass him, lounging on his high shelf. But this morning, such howling outside my door. I expected to find his bowl empty, but nothing. However, look at this:

It did take me a minute to puzzle out. Some free range pup came through, under my deck, paused to make obligatory turns, though perhaps only two, squatted for a leak, and left pretty much the same way. The authority figure out in the street called!

The cat's continuing anguish explained.

But Toby remained tangled in my feet all morning. I have no idea how to tell him I feel his pain, and certainly will when he trips me!

I continued on Trash Thursday duties, leaving waste baskets assembled in the kitchen, in addition to feeding the cat and then myself.

There you have it, my week's high light. Wastebaskets to downsize to trash and recycle containers. 

Do those wastebaskets look empty? They are! I carted the trash to the front door:

Amazon, too. Another cat cranker, exposed! 

Oh, how I hate winter. I know the east coast, from Georgia to Maine, is under feet of snow, not an inch. But my inch is still my problem. Before the trash hits the can the snow must leave. Fortunately, the broom handled it.

Back in the house I had to shake the ice melt off the rug and sweep it all up from the floor. Mr. Cat feels compelled to eat at least one of everything he finds, and I don't know the effect on a cat.

And finally, the highlight! I opened my package.

Hooray, new toothbrushes. I buy these ones of bamboo because they are biodegradable. Every time I open a new tube of toothpaste, I get a new toothbrush from the box. Earlier this week I took the last brush from the last box. I ordered new.

All this methodical behavior is what I'm down to, and not a result of Covid. That virus only makes life actions more stark, in my opinion, because we do so little, the spotlight is brighter.

No, this methodology is directly attributable to first the stroke, ten years ago, compounded by the TBI, and I don't remember when that happened. I can subtract back; it was a February and Laura was in ninth grade, and she graduated this past June, so 2016. I'm going to look, now.

March, 2017. That's right. When the new president started, and we did not go look at the White House. The stroke was left brain; you wake up fighting mad, every inch straining to recover. The TBI was right brain; you wake up feeling cozy, and go back to sleep again.

With the stroke, as soon as I put something back in its place in my brain, I had it. With the TBI, I need routines, and still I remember little. As I tell the cat, "Get over yourself! You can't change it so learn to live with it."