Week of
The list that goes to Bristol
Since your mother stopped driving, you have quietly taken on her shopping, her prescriptions, her bins and the boiler man, and your sibling in Bristol thinks it all runs itself. On Monday, write every job down; there may be thirteen. On Wednesday, send the list to Bristol with three jobs marked as theirs and no apology attached. By the weekend your mother may have had a phone call she did not expect. On Sunday you could have a morning that belongs to no one else, possibly for the first time since March.
Love
You will want to soften that list until it says nothing. Keep it as it is. If your sibling pushes back, say what you have told no one: you are tired. At home, someone has watched you drive over there every Saturday and said little. Tell them on Thursday that you noticed, and that Sunday afternoon is theirs.
Work and money
Your mother’s appointments keep falling in office hours, and you have been making up the time with early starts no one at work has noticed. Tell your manager on Tuesday, in two sentences, with the dates. A later Thursday morning need not be a favour. Your colleagues may even manage without you until ten, which is a blow you are strong enough to take.
Body and mind
The driving, the stairs and the carrier bags have all gone into your shoulders without comment. Go to bed at ten on Wednesday, once the list is sent. One thing you may skip this week with no guilt whatever: the second clean of the kitchen. It has seen worse, and so have you.
Monday, for writing down all thirteen jobs, in ink