Accidents

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.