Why I do not review more

“I cleaned the litter box!”

This is not an earth-shattering statement unless it is 2 AM.

Trying to sleep, I thank my husband and turn over to get back to sleep. At least, I tried until he turned on all the lights in the house and turned on two TVs with the sound blasting.

I yell at him to turn off everything and get to bed.

“Why” is his only response.

He thinks I am only napping rather than in bed for the night. It took an hour for me to urge him to go to bed.

He is fixated lately on cable news or keeping the two porch lights on regardless of the time. He does not understand why I am not interested in 24-hour news.

The following day, he asked me ten times if we were going to the store, and ten times, I said no.

These trips to the Twilight Zone happen a couple of times a week; the rest of the week, he is fine.

Physically, he is like a marionette with jerky movements in his hands and legs.

He is limited, if at all, in doing household chores. If he spills anything, he walks away from it. I spend time cleaning up after him.

If he gets on the computer, he wakes me several times to ask me for the password, which is my birthday.

When I get on the computer, it shows 20 failed attempts with the wrong password each time.

Those who know my husband always praised him for his patience and being the most considerate man they ever met. I always came first. He shows less patience these days, and I miss him when I go to bed, making sure I am covered with a blanket.

I am telling you this because I am on the verge of tears, tired, and fearful. 

I also want to apologize for not spending more time reviewing. He seems to want me to spend time with him. I guess that he is also fearful. So I wait until he drops off to sleep while watching TV.