It’s four in the morning. I just went back to (couch) bed. Bob woke up an hour ago and needed some ice chips. Nothing harshes a mellow like waking up from R.E.M sleep to blend ice cubes in a high power blender in the garage at three am. I’m sleeping on the couch next to Bob. Aunt Barb, my mom’s sister was here for the last three days, but she had to go home yesterday. It’s my turn on the couch as the on call attendant.

He said his head was hot so I put a bag of frozen peas on it. It looks funny, but I think it did the trick. I’ve become an expert ice blender. With the right amount of ice and time, you can make ice chips the consistency of snow. Bob always says they taste like champagne.

He keeps talking about leaving, and how he can’t because he has things to do or how he will miss Helene (my mom). I keep reminding him that he’s done everything he needs to do and that she will be taken care of and knows he loves her very much. Tomorrow it will be a week since he’s eaten any food.

I opened the blinds that were covering the glass sliding doors so we could watch the rainstorms. The giant black oak trees are swaying and twisting in the wind. The sky is lights up every minute or so with lightning. Mozart is mozarting on the cd player. It’s all very dramatic.

Bob is snoring now and I’m wide awake.