July 25, 2018:
Chickens, doves: she has so many ambitions for the house.
Unrealistic. The yard is too much, the birds are too much. After her heart attack she gives most of it up.
She blames the heart attack on me but tells me not to blame myself. It hadn't occurred to me that I had anything to do with it. This is interesting. At her bedside her doctors tell me it was caused by cigarettes: a blood clot in her lung which migrated to her heart. She doesn't remember that. Her mind tells her: the trigger was overly strenuous exertion trimming the yard — which I'd agreed to do. Her addict's logical conclusion: no more exertion.
She was so excited, though. Her own house. After decades of wishing.
Her real estate lady told her: If you'd done this twenty years ago you'd have a million dollars in equity by now.