So it’s almost 1 a.m. and one of us has finally taken a sleeping pill to combat the over-thinking about All This Mess of aging brains. That’s when there’s a knock at the bedroom door.
“Hey you have to get up and see this. Come see the kitchen.”
An elder, who has awakened for his middle-of-the-night ice cream treat, insists there is something noteworthy at this hour to see in the kitchen. Elder has also had his sleeping pill some hours ago, and is unsteady on his feet.
Thinking it might be a cat issue I wake and walk to the kitchen. Where the entire floor is smothered in soap bubbles, up to the cat dish.
“I don’t know what happened,” Elder says, puzzled.
“What did you put in the dishwasher?” I ask, almost accusingly.
“I just used the blue stuff, Dawn, the stuff on the sink.”
“Dad. That’s dish-washing liquid. That’s not the stuff you put IN the dishwasher. Remember? The Cascade is under the sink.” I don’t point out that’s where it’s been kept for, oh, these past 50 years. And that he knows this.
“Well I couldn’t find it.” This would be funny, except that he did this a month ago, before I moved in, using TIDE PODS, and was wondering why there were always bubbles leaking from the dishwasher.
Many bath-towels and soaked washcloths later, I drag the wet laundry down to the basement. At this point I’m trying not to make him feel bad. “Well at least we have a really clean floor!” I try to laugh. “Yeah, I still don’t understand what happened.” That makes two of us.
This is Demented 