It’s a premise I have advanced here before. Burt is a flurry of emotions; it’s a symptom of his disease. To say his moods are changeable is putting it mildly.
When I came home from my outings today, for instance, he told me how rotten I had been this morning. After a PT session, he told me how nice I was.
I’ll take it.
He also told me that he wanted me to have a party for my birthday. He can’t do the preparations, he said. I need to send out the invitations myself. “I don’t want to invite people you don’t like.”
He told me he really enjoyed his party. That, too, made my day.
He had gone from trying to figure out how to get up and out of his bed (and nearly not making it) to being able to call up his OT. He had a long, elaborate conversation with her in which he thanked her for referring his PT to him.
He also said he had good news that he and Tamara were no longer fighting. Burt told me that she was happy to hear this; it had bothered her when we didn’t get along.
More good news for that moment.
this is our life 