Jeane telephoned last evening. Her account of her
wrist injury was vague and somewhat confused.
When I had last spoken with her a week ago, (Feb 20)
she complained of a very heavy and uncomfortable cast
that was to be removed the following Wednesday. (Feb 25)
In last night's conversation she seemed to have forgotten
about the removal of the heavy cast, and reported that
her arm was now on a splint, which the Abingdon orthopedist
proposed to replace with a cast "as soon as the swelling
went down," and the local (black Caribbean) successor to my
father had suggested systemtic steroids to reduce the swelling,
if review of Jeane's medical record showed that she "could 
take it."

Jeane seemed similarly vague and somewhat confused about her
visit to the house. She had asked Herman to drive her. He went
inside and found a pail almost full of rain water. After further
inquiry, she told me the pail had been on the porch; that 
inside the house Herman had found no water, either in the
dining room or in the second floor hallway, but that more
plaster seemed to be flaking off the ceiling.

Herman's chief interest seemed to be a "completely dead"
locust tree near the mailbox, which he wished to fell,
not as a danger to the house but for its wood. I told
Jeane that I had no objection. Then, as an afterthought,
she added that the highway department had deposited a
large pile of gravel near the turn-around. My question
whether it blocked access to the house seemed not to
have occurred to her. "Well, yes", she said, "You couldn't
drive up there no more with it in the way."

Jeane then proposed to telephone the highway department
on Monday to ask to have the gravel removed. Given her
lack of decisiveness, I thought it better if I telephoned,
and will do so on Monday. How much I can accomplish 
remains to be seen. Jeane tells me that the highway
department has sublet such work to private contractors.

My present plan is to drive down as soon as I have 
assembled the video system - which is now awaiting
the telephone responder and the capture card. How I
will manage to get our baggage into the house, and 
how I will keep Mommy comfortable if I can't make the
oil burner function, and what I would do if either
of us were to become disabled - I don't know.

Maybe this is how it will end.