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September 7th, 2018

Tossed Salad Friday

~~ The installation of Dementia-ville caused a lot of changes to my home. My residential office was converted into a sitting room, dining room, and patient bedroom. My living room was lost to provide me with a new workspace (since I don’t see clients anymore, it’s nowhere near as nice or as isolated as was my coveted sanctum sanctorum). Our guest room became the aide’s bed and bath. The lovely couch in Dementia-ville is so stained, the beautiful guest room furniture I inherited from my grandmother has been abused, and there’s stuffing pouring out of the chair in the sitting area. The rotating aides show little to no regard for their workplace being my home. They slam the appliances and bang the glass-fronted drawers. They ruin my cesspool, waste my electricity, and damage my slippery grip on calm. I try to practice indifference, but it doesn’t always work. Like yesterday, when I went to let the dogs out the back door and I spied the latest aide holding our vacuum semi-sideways. Thump-thud-crack-boom! She bashed both the bannister on the right and the wall on the left as she lugged that vacuum up the stairs to my guest room her bedroom. Dear universe, I said silently, please don’t let her knock out the window at the top of the stairs. Of course, that was the one plea the universe granted me!

~~ What would it smell like if bad gasoline were mixed with rancid goat meat? I think that was the dominant smell in Dementia-ville this week.

~~Speaking of smells, I was trapped in an Uber car for just about one hour with a driver that smelled as if he’d applied his aftershave with the hose from a fire truck. I sustained wave after wave of revulsion, but I had to sit there because, well, I should probably share the entire story:

My husband noticed that one of my car’s tires was showing extreme wear, so he replaced it with the spare (and filled the spare with the recommended air pressure). On the way back from an event Friday night, the spare blew and we were stuck miles from home. Roadside assistance said it wouldn’t make it to us for 60 to 90 minutes, and there was nobody to call after 10:00 pm, so my spouse called Uber.

At first, he figured we’d get car service home, put the worn tire in our other car, and return. Almost immediately, we realized the fallacy of his plan: our other car was too small to squeeze in the tire. So now, the plan was to have the Uber driver take us home, load the tire into his car, and bring us back so we could change the tire. Thus, the ride with the reeking driver lasted twice as long, and when I finally burst out of the car, gasping as I bathed my lungs with semi-fresh air, my husband was puzzled. “He smelled?” Oy.

We changed the tire (I held the cell phone flashlight) and finally returned home about two hours later than our original itinerary. Walking in, the foyer area resembled a cow pasture. My three little dogs, with smallish digestive systems and large pools of resentment over spotting my husband grabbing the worn tire and then leaving again, produced enough manure to grow a bushel of corn.

I got a teensy bit of payback over the aftershave assault. I said to my spouse, “Since your nostrils suck at smelling, please pick up all of this putrid poop. I’ve had enough aroma for one night!”

~~ Well, I certainly went on about the teensiest slices of my life this week. Thanks for reading along. If you’re so inclined, take a look at the September Boating Times http://boatingtimesli.com/NY/.

I recommend all the articles, but I really enjoyed writing the wellness feature on reflexology: http://boatingtimesli.com/NY/2018/09/01/reflexology/.

~~ As I’m writing this, everyone is guessing the identity of the anonymous writer of the NY Times op-ed piece. I really don’t care — do U? This person (or cadre) is promoting a hateful agenda and acting unconstitutionally. Out the erratic autocrat and let the chips start falling! [If we know who it is by the time you read this, I still stand by my sentiment.]

Dasvidaniya. Have a great weekend! If you’re observing Rosh Hashanah, have a happy, sweet new year. Shanah tovah u’metukah!



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