Meanwhile...

I should be doing some riding now. Really I should.

So I am going to take out that trusty bicycle and do some riding today. 

Being a Caregiver is a stressful job. Okay, maybe I don't have the stress of some folks, but 'frustrating' might be a better way of explaining it.

Working with my husband's moods and slightly off kilter thought processes can be interesting.

The dehumidifier in the basement quit working. It was a cheapy and lasted about as long as expected. It would run and run and run but the humidity wouldn't change a bit.

I brought it upstairs to see if it would work in a warmer temperature. Some dehumidifiers don't work in cooler places as well.

It was a no go. It ran and ran and collected no water.

Conversation:

Me: It isn't working and the basement is smelling musty.

Him: It isn't summer.

Me [I kind of let that roll around in my head a bit]: Well, it is humid and very musty in the basement. All the clothes stored there will be moldy and smelly if we don't control the moisture.

Him: You just want to buy a new one.

Me: No, I just want to keep things in the basement from getting nasty.

Him: You aren't giving it enough time.

Me: I've given it a week or so. 

Him: Oh go ahead, you are just going to do what you want to anyway.

I returned from the hardware store with a 'cold' room specific basement dehumidifier. He walked into the kitchen where I set it. 

Him: [snarky nasty voice] Oh, I SEE you got one anyway.

Me: [I ignore him and put the groceries away. He feels if I spend any money at all it is a waste somehow.] Well, I'm going to take the old one apart and if I can make it work, I'll take this one back.

Him: [Look of disgust and stomps away] Whatever.

At this point I want to laugh. We'd argued last year about me getting the truck's brakes fixed. He accused me of wasting money. That is until the truck came back fixed of course. Then it was okay.

I think...I know, that part of my husband's reluctance in any sort of change is that he was very OCD'ish in controlling things, fixing things, being the boss. His brain won't let him let me get things fixed without major resistance.

[I'd spoken to the VA CareGiver support just a few days ago and we talked about this very same thing on the phone.]

Pretty soon he is back.

Him: What are you making me for lunch?

Me: Fried Bologna Sandwhich? 

Soon he stomps off to take his midday nap.

I'm curious and take apart the old dehumidifier. I use my Smart Phone to follow instructions as to diagnose the issue. Charlie walks over and looks at all the screws and plastic parts laying on the floor. I identify the compressor, it is still hot. I find the coils and it reminds me of a radiator. Everything is clean and looks okay. I leave it torn apart for when Rich awakens.

Him: Oh look! [He is bending over and looking at the guts of the old dehumidifier] This is not right...he points to the parts that look like a car radiator [the cooling thingies]...this doesn't look right, no wonder it wasn't working!

Me: Oh really?

Him: Let's unpack the one you bought. He gets busy and pulls the new one out of the box and hands me the instructions to read out loud.

He admires the new unit and tells me how nice it is.

Me: Shall I set it up?

Him: Yes! Sure!

And there you have it. Working with a complicated mind...is

well...

sometimes complicated.

But hey, I love the old fart dearly. 

And so it goes.