comedy: the opposite of gravity

I’ve been in OD Withdrawal for what seems like eons. On Saturday, since I had lots of spare time to play around online, naturally dial-up did the kick-her-off-every-three-minutes thing. I went down to see my parents on Sunday, and stayed till Monday so I could go to my mother’s memory clinic appointment. Got back home late Monday night, and woke up Tuesday with the Dreaded Stomach Virus. Thank you, Perpetually Sick Receptionist!!! Fortunately I didn’t have as bad a case of it as she apparently did, and today I’m back at work. At work, and online.

We are getting rid of dial-up. Now I’m just waiting for Baker B to do the research he’s supposed to be doing to see who we should go with. I have a feeling we won’t have much choice out here in the backwater. We’re also getting him a new desktop because the 9 year old Gateway has finally died, so that’s going to be incentive for him to GET RID OF DIAL UP!!!!

Anyhow, that’s where I’ve been vanished off to.

It was the usual trip home. I got down there fairly late in the evening on Sunday, since I went shopping and to Starbucks before going to the parents’ house in order to build up my morale and endurance. When I got there, we went out for dinner to the seafood dive my father loves. Then we came back home and watched RFDTV for several centuries. This Week in Agribusiness, then the tractor show (that’s what he wanted to see) and then a few other RFDTV treats. No Big Joe’s Polka Show, alas.

The next morning my mother did not want to take a shower. She’s been resisting showers for quite some time now, but I haven’t gotten to hear for myself her telling my father to mind his own damn business. And to leave her the hell alone. This is from a woman who I have heard swear exactly once in my life, when she hit her thumb with a hammer and said a very quiet and suppressed "damn". So, it was a little funny, and a lot not funny. I got to escape though, because the other thing she is doing is wearing the same outfit every single day of her life. She never looks (or smells) dirty in the least, but still. You need to change clothes, at least every month or so. And her sweater was unraveling and she’s got it pinned together with big safety pins. Very homeless-chic. Daddy said he can’t get her to go buy any new clothes because she doesn’t want to try them on. Again, disturbing. She used to be a serious clothes horse. And had excellent fashion sense. And would probably have preferred going naked to wearing the same outfit for however long she’s been wearing that same outfit.

SO I said I’d go over to Belk and see if I couldn’t find her something else to wear. And escape the house. I had to go out pretty early, as her appointment was at one. And I still had to vacuum and mop of course, and do the bills, because Daddy sure isn’t going to do that if somebody else will do it for him. And the house was swirling in cat hair.

When I got to Belk I started to worry that I was being waaaay too optimistic about just finding some pants and a sweater and bringing them home and having them fit. I can’t even buy a pair of pants for myself without trying them on, if I want them even close to fitting. And although the pants she was wearing were a 6, they seemed kind of big so I thought maybe a 4 would be better, but there are ten zillion styles and kinds and should I get petite??? She’s teeny, but she’s also old – she never used to wear petite, but should she now?? Who knows!! Anyhow, the Fashion Gods were apparently smiling upon me because I managed to find a quite nice pair of pants and a sweater, got a 6 for the pants and a small for the sweater, and they fit perfectly. And looked really nice – they were more jeans than dress pants, a light but substantial corduroy, dark brown. And a very pretty and soft lavender sweater. And she wore them without a whimper, hooray! I got her to put them on by saying I needed to be sure they fit so I could return them if they didn’t. And then she was okay with leaving them on. So, this will be a good idea for Christmas presents – clothing.

After that, things got better. She complains about going to the Memory Clinic (and on the way over asked us some 12,976 times where we were going, which is also funny in a very dismal kind of way) but doesn’t seem to mind it once we’re there. They give her memory tests each visit and this time she did show some decline. But on the up side, she’s gained six pounds – the doctor said last time that if she didn’t gain at least five they’d have to take her off the medicine she’s on. Which would be a disaster. Apparently the nightly ice cream is doing the trick. It’s certainly doing the trick for Daddy, who has probably gained ten pounds and already needed to lose 30. I keep telling him to eat one little scoop and give her about four, so of course when I was dishing it out for them I gave him one and he kept telling me to add some more, until he had more than either of us did. Then he complains about gaining weight. He also finished off her meal at the Fish House after eating all of his own. AAAGGGHHH.

There is also a new drug that makes people very pleasant and has no ill-effects. The doctor wants to put her on that, maybe next visit. I can’t believe my mother needs a drug to make her pleasant. I can think of plenty of OTHER people who need this drug, but my mother??? She’s always been one of the most pleasant people I knew, even when I was an unpleasant teenager.

Getting old and demented kinda sucks. So does spending my entire visit trying to think of ways to make a funny OD entry out of things that just aren’t funny at all.