LitaWrites (real_lawyer) wrote,

Tossed Salad Friday

~~ She was telling me how “people suffer only because they choose to do so.” She remained unharmed only because I chose to spare her.

~~ Imagine the sneakers of a person who perspired so profusely that puddles of sweat pooled on the insides during every workout.

Said sneakers, reeking of secretion, were tossed in the trash. One sneaker went to a landfill, but the other ended up carried out to sea where it was swallowed by a whale. The taste was so repulsive that said whale violently vomited the sneaker back into the water, creating a current that propelled it towards a stream. A hapless bear, mistaking it for a fish, gobbled up the sneaker before eventually pooping it out. Whatever hideous, stomach-churning smell you can envision that revolting sneaker emitting post-poop was the repellant stench gusting forth from Dementia-ville.

~~ I don’t have a clue what was stinking up the house, but I know it meant a new aide had arrived. I’m sure she enjoyed whatever culinary stew she brewed, but the lifespan of my contact lenses was immediately shortened when I ventured into sniffing range.

~~ The aide is asked to use the most efficient settings on the washing machine, as our cesspool is ancient and more fragile than my crumbly nerves.
“I don’t like that setting,” she proclaims. “The best one is the longest one.” Setting aside the fact that there is no ineffective wash cycle on our machine, who the hell is she to decide the washer is her domain? And why, oh why, must everything be a tussle? I’m not asking for something arbitrary nor submitting this matter to a vote. Go assert your authority over some appliance not under my roof (nor over my cesspool).

~~ Mother’s Day meant nothing to the patient, though my spouse tried to be jovial. I cannot imagine whether anything registered but the effort to acknowledge was too much, or if the words the patient heard were incomprehensible. Wherever dementia leads, it’s not a road I want to travel.

~~ Overheard: “My Mother’s Day almost sucked. My husband bought his mother a dozen roses and gave me a bunch of friggin’ daisies, but I saved it by drinking a whole pitcher full of mimosas.”

~~ Overheard: “This weather is ridiculous. The pollen is high, the rain never stops, and I would kill to see the sun. Literally.”

~~Overheard: “I signed up for a six-week boot camp. I stopped after two weeks because the guy who runs it cracks really, really dumb jokes. They should have called it butthead camp.”

~~ We now have a CIA director who claims torture was so yesteryear, a man in the White House who thinks refugees are animals and wanted to know if anyone would mind if he didn’t sign his financial disclosure form, a State Department who reassigns experienced diplomats to positions in the derisively termed turkey farm, the crimes of barbequing while black and working while speaking Spanish, and a former mayor who’s so busy lying about the Department of Justice that he can’t avoid a pedicab.

Dasvidaniya. Have a great weekend!
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