“I’m cleaning your bathroom in case Tracy comes to stay awhile,” Charlie told me with a sly smile.
I protested greatly, but to no avail. I hate for him to have to go to all that work on my behalf, but it’s Charlie’s way of saying he loves me. Dad got on the couch and watched Masterpiece Theater while Maggie vied for his attention.
“There’s a lot of noise going on in there,” dad hollered to Charlie as he cleaned. “You haven’t fallen in have you?”
“Oh shut up, John!” Charlie replied with a laugh.
“Charlie? My toilet tends to run once every few hours. What could that be?”
“Your plunger is not seating properly. You may need a new one. I’ll get Mike the plumber out here to see about it tomorrow,” Charlie replied.
Charlie cleaned for about 30 minutes until he was satisfied everything was spic and span.
“Are we ready to go?” dad then asked.
“Let me check Andrew’s trash,” Charlie said.
I had beaten him to the punch and carried out all the trash earlier in the day. There was a fresh bag in all the trash cans.
I hated to see them go as I was quite enjoying the company and activity going on in the house. Dad said I seemed down in the dumps tonight. He said I sounded that way earlier on the phone as well.
“The holidays are hard for people with a mental illness aren't they?” he asked me.
I didn’t say what I wanted to say, but I defeatedly said, “Yeah, they can be tough.”
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