ABI Brother stayed the night before holidaying in New Zealand. He has returned now. We went out on the tram car restaurant and he stayed here and watched tv. 'Sorry, I had an accident', he said as he handed me a plastic bag containing his shorts and underpants. He had been out for a walk and did not quite make it in the door in time. I wasn't asking what kind of accident. By the lack of odour as I looked away and tipped the clothes into the washing machine, it was not the worst kind of accident.
Sister, Bone Doctor and Little Jo stayed last night. A doona cover and fitted sheet were dumped on the bathroom floor. Sorry, accident. I know Little Jo wore a nappy, which stayed dry all night, so it wasn't her. I believe Sister and Bone Doctor are quite continent, so I can guess that was a bodily function that females cannot control. I wasn't going to check, again straight into the washing machine. My last experience of such matters was when I was about twelve. 'Mum, you must have cut your leg. There is blood running down it.'
I am just not used to dealing with such matters. Of course some people deal with such matters every day and don't even get paid for it. I do admire them for it. Given how much keeping someone in a nursing home or hospital costs the community, they deserve our moral and financial support, the latter via our taxes.