I go to check on her - the new medication's been doing something at least. She's been sleeping through the night, and hasn't had any "visitors" in over a week, so this outburst gets my attention.
Her eyes are open, but they're full of that semi-vacant "just woke up" fog. Talking her way in and out of sleep is normal. For her, anyway, she's done this for as far back as I can remember. I sit down to chat for a bit.
"Where's who going?" I ask.
"The ball players. They come in here and pitch sometimes."
"In here? I don't know, do you think there's enough room?"
She chuckles, then sighs. "I don't know," she says. She looks at the television. The television is always on. Awake, asleep, somewhere in between, and she's very upset if it isn't. It's women's tennis.
"I don't like tennis," she says.
We talk about that a bit, and why she watches it if she doesn't like it. Nothing consequential, just chatter. She starts fading back into sleep again, and I slip back out to the living room. Nothing unusual. Just Saturday.
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