My son called on Sunday and sounded happy, just ordinary happy, telling me about something he'd cooked, and I nearly cried over a chicken dinner I wasn't even eating. Then I asked the grandchild question AGAIN and he went quiet enough that I knew I'd done it. I said all right, all right, tell me about the potatoes, and we got back to talking. I love hearing his voice, I don't need every call to deliver a major announcement. Apparently my mouth has not received this information. Afterward I was mad at myself for about ten minutes and then he sent the food picture. Hon, it looked dry as hell. I told him it looked good.

Hon, the first steps after I got out of bed were those damn marbles under my feet again, so I stood holding the dresser while the dog looked at me like I was delaying an important international meeting. Which was his breakfast. Once I was moving it eased off, then a hot flash hit while I was making coffee and I had to stand by the open back door in my nightshirt. Cold air on my neck, warm dog against my leg, quite the arrangement. I'm wearing the good shoes tonight. I said that yesterday too but they're actually by the door now. Shoulder is okay if I don't get clever with anything heavy. I would like one body part to submit a compliment for a change.

I've been looking at places by the ocean for that week I keep saying I'll take, and the cheap ones turn out to mean cheap before the dog, parking, cleaning, breathing near a balcony. I want to sit outside and hear water, that's the whole grand plan. Do I need a fancy place for that? No. Do I want a chair that doesn't face a damn dumpster? Yes. I sent two options to the guy I'm seeing and told him I wasn't asking him to organise anything. He said he knew. Now I'm wondering whether I meant he wasn't invited or whether I was afraid he'd assume he was. Anyway the dog is definitely going, that's one decision made.