My dad very kindly dropped off some sandwiches for me. Two omelettes between sourdough toast with…a layer of peanut butter. Those elements do not go together, but I figure, what the heck, dementia sandwiches are better than no sandwiches, it’s a gross sandwich, but I’m kind of a gross person, plus I don’t want to hurt his feelings. It is nice of him to keep considering me at all during the chaos. But this time when I ate them, I got sick, so no more polite eating for me.
Where Dreams Really Do Come True