When I visited with Mike today, our conversation sounded more like mother and son than wife and husband. He was immediately defensive when I asked if he had managed to get his shower without any trouble. "Don't start on me about taking a damn bath!" he snarled.

I changed the subject. He let me know real quick that I had interrupted his TV show, so I waited for a commercial to say anything else. He told me he was going home this week-end. "How are you going home?" I asked.

"Same way I got over here, drive my car!"

I told him again where he is and why he is where he is and how he got to where he is and why he won't be driving again until we're sure it's safe. He gave me a look full of daggers, but didn't say anything else. I only stayed about half an hour, telling him I had errands to run. It was clear to me that he has decided I'm the culprit in this whole fiasco and has a lot of anger about it. His attitude softened some when he realized I was leaving and he told me I looked real pretty. Is he trying to butter me up so I'll take him home? Probably.

I failed to say in yesterday's post that Dr. Irby is the one who told me Mike has pre-frontal cortex damage. One of my astute readers pointed that out. He had not reviewed all the records or the discharge notes from St. Dominic's, and wanted to do that before making a recommendation. I have a lot of confidence in Dr. Irby, especially since he's known and worked with Mike ever since his stroke. Since I haven't heard from him today, I guess it will be Monday.

Some Democratic friends have planned a GNO (girls night out) and have invited me to join them. I've never eaten at the restaurant where we're going. Maybe they can catch me up on all that's been happening in politics since the election. My interest has been minimal since then. I haven't watched the news or the talk shows, or read the paper or magazines. I think Mississippi Democrats are planning an inauguration party in Jackson, but I haven't heard for sure.