Paul Richardson: I think she needs meds

It is most unfortunate, but it appears that the good wife is losing it. After retiring from teaching near two years ago, it is no wonder.

All of her teaching career was spent with kindergarteners or first graders. Those years spent with children surely took their toll.

While staying in compliance with the current stay-at-home policies, I have plenty of time to observe and make notes. The note taking has been intermittent at best, as the journal I began was filled up with drawings due to my artistic nature. 

This really doesn’t matter as I can’t even read my own writing and would never have been able to decipher my notes. But thankfully I have some lovely drawings depending on who you ask. My favorite is “Godzilla Bays At The Moon.”

The first clue as to the symptoms of decline was her resistance to simple questions. I would ask, “Whatcha doin’?” Or the even simpler, “Whatcha thinkin’?” only to be met with no response and a look that implies that the question was too complicated and would require an essay answer. 

I tried to make it multiple choice hoping that would be an improvement, but I must not have included the right answer in the choices. 

Another concern is that lately she gets lost in the house and I have to stand in the middle of the family room and yell, “Where ya’ at?” Sometimes I would get a reply and other times it remained extremely quiet and at that point I assumed that she was wanting to occupy our time with a game of hide and seek. She is a really good hider!

While she is still the good wife, there has been a change in her mood. She has always been very loving, but it seems as if there is some looming issue that has her not only frustrated, but annoyed. 

Even under this pressure, she has been an excellent help in keeping my exercise regimen on track. One of her fun games is to throw a handful of quarters across the yard for me to find. Not only do I get in a lot of steps there is the additional bending and raising up when retrieving them. My concern is her absence of mind. 

When she returns to the house, it appears that she forgets that I am outside and locks the door. This concerns me, because it must be at that point, she needs to take a nap. I have a devil of a time in raising her to unlock the door on some occasions.

I am hoping I get to play the search for quarters game this week. All I need is a buck and six bits (that’s a dollar and seventy-five cents for you Yankees) and I will have enough for one of them fancy sundaes. 

Maybe I can get her to drive me and Billy for ice cream. Then I can ask her a new question, “Are we there yet?”
(Paul Richardson's column, The Horse I Rode In On, is published weekly in the Neosho Daily News, Seneca News-Dispatch, Aurora Advertiser and on the Turner Report.)