From the back of Clooney's motor bike, everything is simple.
I maintain a full time job from my home office, selling the most anyone has ever sold while still writing a screenplay that will eventually win an Oscar. My dearest husband (sorry George!) enjoys time with friends, family and a new companion who inspires him to a point where we can actually write an Alzheimer's book together - a future bestseller. Our home remains tidy, clean and welcoming to everyone and our cat Max finally finds comfort on my lap.
In reality, my dearest husband (sorry George) can not read, write, speak coherently, teach, learn and yet he tells me in a frustrated language, that nothing is wrong. He believes he is well. So how on earth can he now suddenly find interest in puzzles and a desire to visit old age homes? I can not make phone calls as everything I do is listened to. I can not leave my David alone and I can not leave the house, yet I am expected to find and interview care givers, arrange meetings, do the shopping, continue to work, grab a quiet coffee, lose weight, keep David motivated, keep myself inspired and..oh yes...breathe.
This is the most heartbreaking thing I have ever been through and none of it fits on a to do list that we both can pay attention to.
From the back of Clooney's motor bike I will happily show you my tax returns and prepare for the Oscar ceremony. I am however, NOT on the back of Clooney's motorbike.