Tuesday, April 15, 2025 – Day 245

Tuesday, April 15, 2025

Good morning. Welcome to my cozy corner—population: me, with a fire, phone, coffee, quilt, and an increasingly unreliable grip.

So, I get up this morning and someone’s already made coffee. It’s not Bear—he’s migrated from the foot of the bed to the head and claimed a pillow, strategically avoiding the one with drool on it. I pass Cindy on her way back to bed. I think I said good morning and thanked her for the coffee. It’s possible I just grunted and gave a half thumbs up. That counts, right?

I head into the kitchen and grab my morning pills—the ones that supposedly slow the progression of ALS symptoms. I’m not convinced they’re doing a damn thing. At this point, I’m not sure if I’m slowing ALS or just propping up the pharmaceutical industry. But hey, thanks to being in the “catastrophic phase” (that’s Medicare-speak, not ALS-speak), they’re free. So, I continue the ritual.

And then it happens. I open the bottle and—of course—I drop a pill.

Crap.

Now I have to ask myself today’s morning question: do I call Cindy for help, or attempt a heroic solo recovery mission? All I really need is an opposing thumb and a small miracle. Can’t bother her, so I bend down—hoping my knees don’t stage a collapse—and go for my awkward pinch maneuver.

Most mornings, I can win this game of pill hockey. Not today. Today, the pill just glides across the floor like it’s got someplace to be—right through every patch of foot traffic. I’ve got maybe 10, 15 seconds before this turns into a full-body sprawl. Kneeling is off the table—I’d never get back up without calling in a team. My phone is over by the fireplace, exactly where I should already be. But then—a lightbulb goes off! Pliers! That’s my answer.

I MacGyver my way to victory with a pair of metal pinchers. Sure, they’re not FDA-approved for pill retrieval, but they work. I snatch the rebellious tablet, dust off whatever floor debris qualifies as “non-toxic,” and choke it down.

Then, finally, I make it to the fire, coffee in hand, quilt around my shoulders, and collapse into the chair like I’ve just survived a minor natural disaster. Heck of a start to the day. The simple things in life just aren’t so simple anymore.

Today’s final tax return is ready to send. Should be as easy as hitting “submit”—just waiting for the green light from both clients. Then I’m done with taxes for the season. Cue the celebration music. Actually, tomorrow we’re celebrating properly with the tax crew at Cooper’s Hawk.

Yesterday was the Mug Club party at Sew Hop’d Brewery. Twice a year, they lure us back with free beer, food, and the illusion that we might actually win a raffle. Spoiler alert: we never do. We’re limited to two beers, and our chaperones are invited to make sure we don’t “accidentally” forget that rule—or where we live.

On our way in, the brewmaster was outside greeting folks. As we walked by, he smiled and said, “Welcome #1 and #2.” I smiled back and said hello. Recognition without the burden of actual names? Works just fine for Mark and me.

We got our tickets for beer, food, and raffle, and the manager snapped a Polaroid (or whatever brand has inherited that mantle) for their wall. We even got a few photos with our own camera before heading to our usual table. Good thing we showed up early—the place was shoulder-to-shoulder within 39 minutes.

We had a great time, as usual. There was a guy with a guitar playing solid tunes—just a bit too loud. We ended up singing along, mostly because conversation was no longer an option. I’m not sure if he was trying to command the room or drown out our vocals (mine especially, which could curdle hops). Either way, it worked.

And just like that, the beers were gone, the raffle was ignored, and it was time to go. Did I want to stay? Absolutely. Would it have ended well if I did? Absolutely not. So we called it. I put my arm around Cindy—for love, yes, but also for a little much-needed balance. These legs aren’t exactly trustworthy anymore. Sad, but true.

And with that, I hopped into the passenger seat. Cindy managed the door for me, which still feels backwards. Wasn’t that supposed to be my role? Not anymore, I admit defeat and let chivalry go.

Till tomorrow. Have a great day.

Love you guys! ❤️