Well now it's morning and I feel better, more rational, sane again. That dog poop will get you every time. I hate that smell permeating my house. And yes, I am tired of soaking old man's foot and answering the question "How does it look?" every night before I have a chance to get home to my dogs and my own house, no matter how late my meetings have gone, no matter what time it is or how much snow there is on the ground or how cold it is outside. Every night. But I love the man dearly and really am happy to be able to do something for him. Tonight I have a meeting that will last until 5:30, then I will cook dinner for Ken and will not get home to my dogs or my house until probably 8:30. My fire will be out, my house will be cold and I will be tired. But Ken will be happy. I agreed last night to take an afternoon off to drive him to the doctor. This simple act made an old man so very, very happy and relieved him of such anxiety, and is so easy for me to do that there would be no reason for me not to do it. I can't understand why people don't behave this way more. There's a bumper sticker that says "Practice random acts of kindness." That's the religion I feel like subscribing to. This whole episode with Ken really has taught me that it's so easy to be kind to people and they need that and appreciate that (well, some people do) so much. I already knew this, but here's a man who never lets people do anything EVER for him, and he's finally letting me do things for him (whether I want to or not).

So that's my mood today. When you read my mood last night you'll know why I wrote this. My cousin Nip says my doing so much for Ken is helping me heal. I don't know if that's true--I cried a lot on the way to work this morning. As the calendar year closes in on Henry's death I'm feeling sadder and sadder. I can't believe my brother's been dead for a year, it feels as if I had a brother just a short time ago. And yet it feels as if I've been missing him for a long time.

It finally stopped snowing and we must have about a foot of new snow. I will call Roger today and leave a message that I'd like to have my driveway plowed, please. Whether he will or not is anyone's guess. I was going to rough it and walk from the road to my house, but why would I do that? I mean, really? What's up with that behavior?

Friday I have to figure out a way to treat Ken and make it to a meeting in Wadhams, an hour from here, to be at a library fundraiser that's from 6-8. I guess I could go home early to take care of him. I don't know how single parents ever manage their schedules.

And now back to Port Henry's books. Yesterday it was Dr. Stanley's book on exploring Africa, not really called "Dr. Livingston, I presume," but it did have "Dr. Livingston" in the title. These people really need to get their collection in order.