February 8, 2008 Day 295
I have been weepy all day, exasperated with Adrian, unable to cope with his continual needs. He is 81 years old. Why don't I have more compassion? A reader of my book recently noted how compassion can turn into exhausted resentment which it is called upon to do more than one can bear. I am at my wits end.
I want a studio with a door that I can lock from the inside.
Two minutes ago I found water trickling off his wet boots, which he had set down next to my computer.
Yesterday he covered the entire floor and every surface in the basement, including the ping-pong table, with "stuff" he is trying to organize. What choice did I have but to deal with it, if I ever wanted to set foot in the basement again? That was how I spent my morning instead of drawing and painting.
I love him, but I can't take this any more. We have to have separate spaces and he has to deal with his stuff in his spaces and leave my spaces alone. Knock before entering.
Here is the drawing I just made, finally, at five p.m. today:
Drawing #301 11" x 14"
(Note: There is a gap between the dates I'm writing and posting in order to give me time to get ahead.)
