DEMENTIA CARE: THE RANDOMNESS OF IT ALL.

It's been a mad week.
   Grumpy start to the week, and an almost perfect, beautiful, finish to glide away on.

That's the problem with dementia. The ability to go for ages seeming normal, followed, at the drop of a pin, a hat, or other random object, by a period of strangeness.

   There was care this week. And maintenance. Stumbling over the news that a near-neighbour had two conversations on different days. That story was boiled into one gloopy event.

   The first chat was at the grumpy part of the story. And the second chat was on calmer terms.

I wasn't sure that my mother spoke to anyone. Again, her ninja skills came to the fore. That ability to teleport to the other side of the building, and then the other side of the street, is really fucking amazing.

   And annoying.

   Throw in the maintenance, to aggravate me. I used a process of elimination to work out that a household appliance was fine, but the plug of the transformer serving it...that was fucked.

   A quick switch of plugs from one room to another and all was well again.

   I knocked a chunk out of a wall during a vast chain-reaction of furniture-shifting that left me near-speechless for two days.

And I dismantled memories as well as furniture, to make a room safer at night. This was the last holdout. A piece of furniture that absolutely definitely had to stay.

   Farewell, wardrobe. Your time was done long ago, I know. I'm surprised my mother gripped you so tightly, clinging to your wreckage, long past your useful days.

   But you became a monumental hazard and distraction. You had to disappear.

   If she'd not suffered dementia, she might've ditched the wardrobe. She'd never let it go if she wanted to keep it. But she has dementia, and that's a superpower sometimes. It makes getting rid of problem items so much easier.

   The wardrobe is gone. She didn't bat an eyelid at its demise. I say demise. It's leaning up against furniture in another room, out of sight, out of mind. Storing the abandoned wooden bits in the loft is a task for another day.

Someone else's computer problems gave me trouble. Typical.

What else? A chance encounter with the near-neighbour revealed the extent of random wandering. Ninja skills in action.

   And a coincidental meeting with my favourite aunt brought up a load of family business that no one need ever hear about. It was all said and done, and that was that.

   Yes. It's been a random week. A grumpy week, on Monday. By Tuesday, a much better week was in the offing. Here we are on Saturday, and I can report that I had a cinnamon swirl to celebrate the improved state of affairs at the weekend.

   I'll take that as a win.