Martin is looking pretty sick, but he is almost 18 years old and not spending hundreds to find out that he is old. I swear last night that he was lying in the bathroom dead. I was afraid to touch him to find out. I was afraid to tell my husband in the middle of the night that his cat was dead. So I told him in the morning that I thought Martin was dead, but he wasn't on the floor anymore. One might ask if the cat was dead why not do something? Well, I can't raise the dead and why upset my husband any sooner than he has to be. I really don't know if all these crazy thoughts about thinking he was dead was for real or a dream, but isn't my house pretty strange if I thought the cat was dead, but ignored it. I think I hear about death so much that it doesn't faze me much.

I am kind of sad, because Sandy has been moved from the hospital to the nursing home in the rehab section. She might as well be in a walk in closet. I think she deserves better treatment. I worked my last long shift. Now I will be on 8 hour days and only 4 days this week. It doesn't pay to take care of the elderly.