Sorted

Cath and I have been sorting out my fathers old office out. If only we knew that his growing inability to deal with the dross of everyday life was an indicator of dementia and not just exhaustion from being my mothers carer. Which is very, very exhausting.

The office had over the years become a dumping ground for all those bits and pieces that my dad couldn't deal with as well as thirty years of payroll bureau data. We spent most of the day sorting papers into shredable and disposable lots.