Memento Mori

Laundry day is also the day I do the routine maintenance and hygiene tasks associated with Caer Ibormeith , my CPAP goddess of sleep, who gently breathes nightly into my nostrils. You know you are an eccentric when your appliances and vehicles have names – and you talk to them.

I gently changed her air filter, cleaned out her humidifier tank, and washed her hose and nasal pillows, telling her as I did how very much I appreciate her company and support. Today she spoke back. On her little screen where a smiley face usually assures me all is well, was a dire message.

“Respice post te. Hominem te esse memento. Memento mori!”

I rang my service provider, Andrea, in Albany, WA. I told her of this ominous message. I asked what I should do.

“You now have a piece of string. We don’t know how long it is. Keep using it, but it could fail at any time. Then you’ll need to look for a new one.”

“Can’t I send her somewhere to be serviced?”

“No. They are not built to be serviced. That would cost more than replacing it.”

“Her.”

“When did you get it?” She consulted her computer. “2013. It’s lasted you well. “

“She has. I’ve had marriages that didn’t last that long.”

“I remember you now – You joker”.

“Yeah, that’s me. Thanks for the advice, Andrea. I appreciate it. I hope she lasts me a while longer. I guess I can find a local supplier when the time comes. Bye.” I hung up.

It’s just a thing. It can’t love me. But I feel as if she does. I was in pretty bad shape before we met.

Author: Uisce úr

Though I am old with wandering Through hollow lands and hilly lands, I will find out where she has gone, And kiss her lips and take her hands; And walk among long dappled grass, And pluck till time and times are done, The silver apples of the moon, The golden apples of the sun.

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