Today Richard called my attention t a corner in our bathroom where he wants me to be very careful. 


“Look here. See? There are about six little ants.” I looked but didn’t see any ants. “I’m feeding them.”

“You’re feeding the ants?”

“Yes, but be really careful because they’re really tiny little guys. You can hardly see them.” He squatted down to show me. “See?”

For a second or two I was speechless, then I came back to reality, wherein my husband is 79 and has Alzheimer’s.

I told him he can’t feed the ants, and his face fell in disappointment and surprise. “What do you mean I can’t feed the ants?! Why not?”

“Because they can’t live in the house. They have to live outside.”

He was stuck, so I offered, “You can feed them outside, on the dirt.” 

Richard soon wandered away. I doubt he will recall our convo. I guess from now on I’ll have to keep an eye out for suspicious crumbs?” 

I hate Alzheimer’s.

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