Thursday, April 17, 2025 – Day 247

Thursday, April 17, 2025

Good morning, and welcome to Thursday.

Yesterday was a marathon of activity. We might’ve overbooked ourselves just a tad. With Bear needing two morning walks and Cindy flying solo on dog duty, it didn’t take long for our morning to descend into chaos.

Breakfast was biscuits and gravy—one of my all-time favorites. And who’s the cook? That would be Cindy, of course. Honestly, she handles nearly all the household responsibilities, and she’s on a mission to keep my calories up and muscle loss down. Protein shakes, protein bars, protein this and protein that. At this rate, I’m going to need a license to operate this new pear-shaped physique of mine. Spoiler alert: her plan is working.

Everything’s humming along—gravy on the stove, biscuits in the oven, good smells in the air—and then comes a knock at the door. It’s Fred, our neighbor, following up on a text we’d sent. That knock sends Bear into full “I must love this human immediately” mode. He’s got the manners of a frat boy at his first party, and now Cindy’s juggling bubbling gravy, a bouncing Bear, and a bewildered Fred.

This is standard Bear behavior (he’s four), thrilled to have yet another visitor to smother with affection. Fred doesn’t dislike Bear, but let’s just say they’re not exchanging holiday cards. Thankfully, Bear settles down after about ten minutes.

Meanwhile, I’m upstairs trying to get dressed before Tim shows up. He’s coming by to help with some other things. By the time I finally make it downstairs, the biscuits are slightly overachieving in the doneness department—let’s just say they graduated from golden brown to UPS brown. But the gravy came through in the clutch, softening things up, and the flavor? Still a win. Honestly, all I needed was someone to cut it up for me and maybe airplane a bite into my mouth! No, I’m not at that stage… yet. I’m just happy to have Cindy making breakfast each morning, so I’m certainly not complaining. “Thanks for breakfast, honey—it wasn’t a failure. I still loved it.”

Fred’s visit wasn’t just a social call—he was stepping in to help receive a wheelchair delivery that required a signature sometime between 10:00 and 12:00. We had lunch plans with the tax team and their spouses to celebrate the end of tax season—a yearly tradition that, surprisingly, doesn’t devolve into spreadsheets and form codes. Including spouses is the magic trick; it keeps the conversation human and gives us all a chance to connect beyond the 1040.

Fred lives closest, so he was our first pick to meet the FedEx driver. But he also had to take Anna to a medical appointment and needed to hash out the timing. Of course.

Plan B: Cindy called Barb, who said she could come over before we left. Whew. Crisis averted. It only took an hour and two humans to coordinate coverage for one box on wheels.

Then Tim arrives. He’s picking up the John Deere riding mower that’s been sitting in our garage like a forgotten relic of suburban ambition. Let’s be honest—I never really needed it. We live in a townhome, and the HOA handles the yard work. I just kept it “in case we move,” but now that option’s off the table. Out goes the JD, and in comes a new plan: convert the garage into a leather workshop. My hands don’t work quite like they used to, but hey—why not try?

Tim not only hauls off the mower, he cleans the garage too. Overachiever that he is, he even asks for more. So, I keep the momentum going and point him to the backyard: “Hey, could you take down the Christmas light tree?” Yes, in April. I know. Don’t judge. Good thing the HOA isn’t sticklers about post-holiday decor, or we’d be paying late fees in garland.

Around 11:00, Barb arrives, followed shortly by Fred. Fred tries to tell Barb she can head out—he’s got it covered—but Barb decides to hang around anyway. So now we’ve got a full support crew at the house. Cindy and I hop in the car and head to lunch, waving goodbye to our personal pit crew of angels.

Lunch at Cooper’s Hawk was fantastic. We barely talked taxes (a miracle), and instead shared stories and lots of laughter. After two hours, we hugged goodbye with the usual “See you next year,” followed by the classic, “God willing.”

Back home, the house was quiet, and sitting there in the middle of the garage were my new wheels—charging up and waiting for their debut. (Video content to follow.)

By 3:30, I finally sat down and took a deep breath. Legs up, couch engaged, and I drifted into a well-earned nap, feeling pretty damn good about the day. Much better than the day before.

Life is a constant flow of emotions and experiences with family and friends. It shapes our soul. We learn to love more, extend our hands where they’re needed, and lift people up. I love all of you for what you sacrifice to help Cindy and me. Thank you.