Resolutions

I don't make them. I don't like them. I wouldn't keep them.

This year though, my husband and I have each made one. And we are intending to follow through.

His is that we will have a permanent, adequately-sized home by the end of this coming year. We think we found the right spot and as soon as I finish this post I am going right back to my property search.

Mine is that in the event either or both of us reach a stage where we begin to be infirm and headed toward prolonged, incurable illness, I will take the suffering party for a long drive in the car, in the garage, with the door closed.

We have spent the last few days shuttling our children back and forth across the state to visit with their cousins, in town from London for the holidays, and traveling from the nursing home, and then the hospital, to visit G.G. Mil, my husband's grandmother. We will either be back in a day or two to move her to a hospice or for her funeral. The lady who told stories of fishing in the Everglades wearing hip waders with gators bumping her leg is proving to be just as tough at the very end. She has a living will that refuses any kind of invasive procedures, especially feeding tubes and intravenous fluids, and a Do Not Resuscitate order. My husband was designated years ago as her representative, and he is now in the awful position of authorizing her to dehydrate and starve to death.

Okay, back to the real estate pages. Must remember to sort all the listings to include houses with garages.