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This is it, I have dementia!

“I love you,” says David as we snuggle in under the covers. “And I love you,” I return.   I contentedly sigh.  “Life is good.” “Life IS good.” “Yep.”  Smooch.  Smooch. You know how sometimes your brain  goes off on these weird tangents?  One minute, I’m kissing my husband and the next I’m doing math.  Rissa…

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The carpet’s not charcoal – it’s beige, covered in cat hair…

“Minuit!  Minuit!  For the love of….  Scoot!!  SCOOT!!“ Minuit lies upon our bedroom floor, a vision of feline pulchritude.  She splays every splayable part of her body.  Rolling onto her back, she raises an eyebrow. “Menh…?” “Seriously?  I just vacuumed.  How can you produce this much hair in 2 hours?” “Menh…” “Plus, I just brushed…

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And that’s why my new boss had to undo my dress in the parking lot…

“Are they going to fit in?” “I’m trying to make them,” says Rissa. “I swear to you that these breasts were not this large in June.” “I think you might be right.” “What is going on?!?” “I don’t know, Mummy.”  Rissa huffs, as she places her knee in my back to gain leverage.  “You can’t…

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So there I was… naked, running with scissors…

Stompy.  I was SOOOOOO stompy.  Throwing blankets and sheets down to be washed.  Stomp.  Stomp.  Stomp.  David and Rissa exchanging “What the hell is happening?” looks below in the kitchen. The panic had beset me while still in bed.   I’d looked up at the ceiling with the skim coat of drywall compound taunting me –…