I need to clear my mind of the negative thoughts swirling around in it. Tom is napping—he’s always tired on donation days.

Yesterday, I cried more than I had in months. I was suddenly overwhelmed by the thought of him not being here, and how utterly alone and devastated I would feel. On top of that, I’d be left to handle everything he takes care of—things that would be so hard for me to manage. He seems to think I could make it without him and talks about how the payments would be automated, how Medicare gives you 50 free rides a year, etc. But I know I wouldn’t survive the heartbreak and loneliness. The idea of waking up every day without him—no more golfing, no more jumping in the car with him driving—it would just drain the life right out of me. I keep trying to remind myself not to dwell on things that haven’t happened yet, but it’s easier said than done.

I know there’s a slim chance I could go first, but that doesn’t feel much better. I wouldn’t want to leave him alone, even though he’s more capable than I am. I’d never want to abandon him, just like I never want to live without him. If I did, I would have left him by now.

He seems to take aging as just a fact of life, and he handles it well, but it’s still hard to see him grow old. He’s still capable, but it’s not like it was 30 years ago, especially with his shaking. His memory is still better than mine, though he’s become a little more forgetful. I’ve told him there’s no way I’ll live the 5 to 15 years I might survive after he’s gone, assuming he dies around the age his father did, in his mid-80s. I keep telling him we need to be prepared, and he always says we’ll have warning when his time is near.

I believe that’s probably true. I’ve always had a psychic sense that he might get some kind of terminal cancer in the end. But I could be wrong. He might have a sudden heart attack or be in an accident. Florida is full of accidents. Either way, nothing will change my mind—I’ll go when he does unless I’m surprised by going first. I just don’t see that happening, though.

Why can’t I just live in the moment? I don’t understand why it’s so hard for me, why my mind keeps drifting to the worst possible scenarios when we’re not even there yet—and likely won’t be for nearly two decades.

In other news, the redneck posted another video of the nutjob’s “garden.” It’s about a minute and a half long. Supposedly, she doesn’t have electricity or running water over there, and now there’s talk of her being evicted. I get why the redneck and Julie would be thrilled, but I’m not sure I like that idea because she’s quiet and I’m not next to her. That wide driveway would be perfect for motorcycles, and the two lanais would be inviting to dog owners.

Speaking of motorcycles, I probably shouldn’t jinx myself by saying this, but I haven’t heard the ones behind the honker in a while.

Toni posted that while she was away, someone removed the fog light from her car and tried to move a large planter but only managed to shift it a foot—it was too heavy. I hope no one tries to steal our bench. I wonder if they’d be tempted if it was out front. It’s worrisome and a reminder that crime can happen anywhere. My bike was stolen in an upscale gated community in California, after all.

On a lighter note, I ordered a few things from Amazon:

• Glucose strips to get a sense of where my blood sugar is at these days.
• Two bottles of floor cleaner—one lavender-scented, the other watermelon-scented.
• Dust mite spray for bedding.
• Fertilizer for the lemon tree.
• A larger happy light for my desk.