~~ Overhead this one-sided phone conversation: “No, no, no! If you put it there, the dog will eat it. No, not there, either! I don’t want to see the stupid thing when I get home, you hear me?”
~~ I’m not being flip or irreverent, but how the heck isn’t this a mockery of religiosity?
~~ I felt very old this past week. First there was the incident at the party where a woman told me she got a new pharmaceutical job repping “something I’m sure you’re familiar with” and then naming a geriatric product for which I have no need. Second, there was being told that I was a role model for doing yoga at my “stage,” and then there was the friend who grew a bit flustered and proclaimed that she was a relic because of how long ago it was that she graduated law school. It was in 1995! Inasmuch as I wore my cap and gown in 1981, I need to go see if the word “Jurassic” is on my diploma.
~~ As many long-time readers know, my age became a lot less of an issue for me when I passed the birthday that matched my mom’s age at her death. And ever since I was maybe as young as 10, I’ve been used to hearing that I looked older than my age. Nevertheless, is being categorized as geriatric not supposed to affect me? I have all my faculties (no snickering) and can put my shoulder under my thigh and wrap my arms behind me — doesn’t that count for anything?
~~ Somehow, that leads to the definitely older patient in Dementia-ville. She’s still screeching like a drunken sailor on a three-day bender and issuing commands to the imaginary bartenders who want to cut her off. At least, that’s what I’m imagining she’s saying, because otherwise it’s just a lot of nasty-ass profanity.
~~ The aide says “Good morning” and 90 minutes later, she leaves. She’s been to my house at least a half-dozen times this year. Did it ever occur to her to say she was leaving and/or say “Goodbye”?
~~ I believe this week was “Give listeners an aneurysm” week on the game show channel the patient watches. Alternatively, perhaps it was a week’s worth of “Take away viewers’ reason to live.” Either way, the programmer deployed a diabolical deluge of dings, dongs, kabooms, bams, and assorted earsplitting noises that broke windows in 17 states — while destroying my fragile state of mind.
~~ Every time the staff at Dementia-ville changes, the same car service guy seems to make the railroad run. Every time the car service guy arrives, he chooses not to park in any of the open driveway but pull in behind my car. Every time I go to leave, he has to move. Every time. Last week, he says, “I seem to always be in your way. Some coincidence, huh?” I muster all the incredulity I can display and say, “It’s not a coincidence. You choose to pull in right behind me whether I park here, there, or over there [I’m gesturing].” He looks back and says, “Huh. You may be right.” So that means the other possibility — coincidence — still exists?
~~ I am so furious about the harmful and chaotic circus that is our government. However, whatever I write about may change by the time you read this, so I’ll just post some photos. Check me out on Twitter for my moment-by-moment rants.
Dasvidaniya. Have a great weekend.
LET’S GO METS!