I’ve been a out of sorts lately. Having trouble writing, so I decided to just write this morning during a cancellation in my schedule and see what came up.
Someone told me how to fold fitted sheets today…
I can never get those ten minutes back.
I’ve always had an issue with people feeling almost too comfortable with me. I’m not sure why.
This happened when I was a Physical Therapist:
“Mr. Kenney, why is it that Beth tells me you always say you’re feeling great when you talk to her, but when I ask how you’re doing you always say you’re in pain and feel awful?”
“Well, She’s such a cute little thing, I wouldn’t want to hurt her feelings!”
It’s always been that way.
Do you suppose that people of every century felt like society was going to hell in a handbasket? The world-wide rise of anti-intellectuallism has me worried. We are headed for deep shit, and I suspect most wouldn’t even know a handbasket if given one.
Me to man screaming on corner at 7 AM this morning: ” So what’s up? You okay?”
” Yeah, just felt like yelling.” (He wasn’t yelling anything in particular just bellowing very loudly)
” It’s a little nerve-wracking, but if you need help…”
” Can I buy you a coffee? ”
” I’m good.”
” Okay, see ya.”
“Have a good day!”
” You too!”
Is it because of the plethora of psych services offered in this town that it seems to be overrun with people in need of them? Chicken or the egg, people? Chicken or the egg?
My sister has been wanting my mother to move to assisted living. She has been talking about it for some time, as families often do with no actual movement toward the intended goal.
Two years ago my mother said she was going to elder housing to put her name on the waiting list. She never did. My sister offered to take her – no wait- my sister said she would take her but never did, which is fine, because my mother never had any intention of signing up anyway.
My stance on the whole thing is, it’s not my life and my siblings have no idea who my mother is, or that she will not be moving any time soon. There are plenty of 90 year olds who have stairs in their homes. She is totally competent, if not stubborn. I will be heartbroken, but if she dies falling down the stairs, so be it. Please don’t involve me in silly things, because if Mom is going to talk to anyone about stupid shit, its me. And I don’t need any more stupid shit.
Well I guess my sister FINALLY approached my mother with the idea because yesterday my mother said to me, ” Your sister wants me to move into elder housing. Do you have anything to do with this? I’m not moving again. I have been where I am for thirty years and the next time I move they’ll be taking me out in a box!”
” I hear they take you out on a stretcher. I mean , why transport the box right? That’s gotta be heavy.”
” Either way feet first! And don’t be such a smart ass.”