I'm Discombobulated

I'm not sure what to do. I am... discombobulated. There were no crises yesterday. I had no reason to make plaintive posts on Facebook begging for help. Not once did I have to go knocking on a neighbour's door to ask for help. It was... calm, relaxed, easy, without stress.

This is, of course, the advent, the effect of having a live-in caregiver. Yesterday when I tried to put a fruit plate into the fridge, I couldn't. I did not have to drop it on the floor hoping it didn't spill, then go to a neighbour to ask for help. I simply called out to Shelby. She came and put the fruit plate in the fridge, smiling and telling me it was no problem. When I couldn't get something down or put something up, she did it.

She seems to be okay with all the million little things I am dying to have done. Yes, it's a pun. Nonetheless, my towels are all arranged the way I like them. My health care supplies are all stowed away neatly and properly. My files are getting filed. My dishes are getting properly stowed. She made breakfast for me yesterday and today, with some instruction required, which of course made me happy.

On first blush, after a day or two here, Shelby seems to be settling in nicely. She's taken up residence in her room, slowly arranging her things as she wishes. Actually I have no idea what she is doing in there; it's none of my business and not my place to look. I am very aware of the privacy needed by a young lady. I'm being careful to respect that.

Oh, she has a delightful sense of humour and enjoys a glass or two of wine with dinner. How can that be a bad thing?

Once the "honeymoon" is over, we'll see what happens then. For today, my apartment is clean, my life is calm, I can putter on what I like. I can live with that.