I'm sitting in my Bnb, now waiting
for my laundry to finish. I have access
to a washer/dryer, thank God. Before I
came here, I was staying at the Prince in Waikiki, a 5-star hotel. Damon, who paid for the whole thing, told me
they had a washing service: Just put my clothing in a bag, they'll pick it up
and have it back within 24 hours. Okay,
let me see, $11 for one pair of pants. I
stopped there and took my laundry out of the bag. I told Damon I'd rather spit on my clothes to
get them clean than spend that kind of money on that kind of chore.
The Bnb is more than one step down
from the Prince, but it's clean, safe, and the bed is comfortable. Good enough!
I am actually in a building that is separate from the main house. I would say it's about 500 sq. feet. It is divided in half by Japanese
screens. One half is the bedroom with
two queen-sized beds. The other section is the living/kitchen area. It hasn't been updated since the 60s. When Shivani and I arrived, Shivani, who made
the booking, asked me if it was okay. It's not quite to my taste; it lacks
charm. But, I'm not on vacation even if I do sometimes look vacant.
On the theme of me being vacant: It
was Friday that I first started saying the rosary to Mike. It was exhausting in of itself. I usually do it in my head, not aloud, even
if I'm with a group. I find speaking distracting. I remembered to bring his Powerbook on
Saturday but then left it in the car. We
were expecting one of the doctors to come. I proposed going down to get the
Powerbook. Shivani reminded me we were expecting a doctor to come by and to
wait. Good idea! We had two more reprieves of that routine,
with me proposing going down to get the Powerbook and Shivani reminding me that
we were waiting for the doctor's before I finally got it. It wasn't only Mike who is suffering from
mental incapacity, but he has an excuse: he's drugged out of his mind,
literally, on pain and anti-anxiety medications.
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