This morning I get up early, go into Lynettea’s bedroom and hop on the bed. She puts lots of covers on the bed and has nearly finished making it. She heaves an elongated cushion over my head and lets it fall just behind me. She tells me to be careful, as the cushion is heavier than me. Soon she will pick up my futon from my bedroom – she calls it the loungeroom – and stack it on top of the bed. She says she doesn’t want clutter everywhere but I notice that applies to my things, mainly.
I’ll have to stop this, I think. So, while she is busy collecting the newspaper from the front porch, I retreat to my bedroom and lie down on my futon.
I am still there.
