the ticky-tocky-clangy clock

I am not sure if I have mentioned this in these pages, but Pop did get a new clock for the little room with the washer & dryer. I thought, though, that he got a very quiet model, and that this wasn't going to be a problem. I even fancied that Pop might have purposefully shopped for a quiet model, being aware of my sensitivity. Yet, this morning, as I was putting my clothes into the washing machine, I was annoyed to hear how loud that ticking was, and I was wondering, are my ears getting more sensitive? But, later, after I put the air-conditioner on, I realized that the white noise effectively muted the clock.

You know what this means? When we get past the a/c season, I am presumably going to have to go back to the tiresome routine of burying the ticky-tocky-clangy clock during my naps and then hanging it back up. I cannot nap with the earmuffs on my head. I suppose Pop doesn't do this deliberately. He just likes having clocks everywhere, and it is just my cross to bear, part of the tab for accepting his room and board and Internet. It does seem like a small price to pay, but it can also seem at times like its own little torture of the soul.

enfeeblement

Pop returned from his rounds at a little after two, said he was feeling ill, and went to bed, and he only now comes out of his room. I asked what was wrong. He said that he just feels badly off, in his bones. For years I have been afraid of his falling into enfeeblement. God, I hope this isn't it! I often lament the emptiness of my life, but I know it will only get worse after this, much worse, and I want these days to continue as they have all these years.