I’m getting dad ready for bed and we have this routine. He’s sleeping in the bed with his clothes on and I wake him up.
Dad: Why ya waking me up? I was asleep!
Me: Because you’re in your street clothes, and you don’t want to wake up that way!
Dad (Grumbling): , Okay, okay, I guess you’re right. I gotta wash up. It fools me into thinking I’ve had a bath.
With walker in hand, he makes it to the toilet, a fancy computerized Japanese bidet with 10 different wash spray, dry, and wax cycles. Every time he hits a button on the remote control it beeps and I can hear the change in water pressure, aeriation, spray, and dryer. Then he makes his way to the sink where he perform the rest of the requisite cleaning steps, and then to the bed, where he installs himself into his pajamas. Then he lies back and hands me his glasses and hearing aids (in that order), which I dutifully place in prescribed places on his night stand. Lastly, he pulls up the sheets just enough to cover his feet just below the knees, and no more.
Dad: I gotta keep ’em covered, so I can find ’em in case I need ’em.”