Between taking care of my grandfather, planning my wedding, being suddenly overcome with the urge to take part in numerous home improvement projects and dealing with my annoying parental units, I haven't had much time for a creative outlet. Whether it be in writing or a drawing or anything.
I say I'm taking care of my grandfather but it's not like he's ill or frail or anything. It's like he's on vacation. He's my guest. I'm his hostess. I take care of him in providing a bed, clean sheets, towels, and delishus meals throughout the day.
That's right. Delishus! Ooh, and free shampoo and soap.
My mother doesn't realize that I like having him here. I tell her so, but she doesn't listen. She keeps telling me that he needs to go to an old folks home and that I'll get sick and become incredibly mentally ill and that I'll develop some kind of crippling physical ailment if I continue to keep him here with me.
I understand what she means. There's only so much you can do. If things were different, yeah...I probably would have other arrangements set.
But while he's still sharp and energetic, he's mine.
She doesn't quite understand coming from a large family.
I am an only child. My father is an only child. We are all my grandfather has. And he's the only grandfather I've ever known. Why on earth would we send him off when he's in good shape?!?
Normally I'm pretty laid back but lately people have been pissing me off.
And by people I mean my mom. Occasionally my dad. People in general...but wait, that's normal.
Same goes with my mother-in-law. I don't think she understands certain things. Either that or she just doesn't think before she speaks, and on top of that doesn't listen to herself as she keeps repeating the same phrases over and over and over again.
Though it's a nice break from listening about her Boston Terrier.
She started giving me this odd, borderline manic lecture on how when it's your time to die, it's your time. Started talking about the lord and such. It really freaks me out when people talk about the lord. Talk about death and cadavers and pine boxes for all I care...but the lord?!
Scary.
I didn't know whether to laugh or to yell at her. Mama-in-law is obsessed with the fact that my mother won't dye her hair. My mom has developed an allergy to hair dye, you see. If she dyes her hair, her entire head, face and neck swells up. Her throat begins to close up. She has trouble breathing. Not a pleasant experience. Sooo, adding that paranoia on top of her already existing irrational paranoia, my mom doesn't want to dye her hair ever again. I'm right there with her. She doesn't want to risk trying any of the natural stuff out there like henna or whatever.
Well...with the wedding coming up, my uber image-conscious mother-in-law to be keeps insisting that my mom dye her hair. I keep explaining over and over again that my mom doesn't want to, and why. That's when my fiance's mom starts about how, "When it's your time to die...it's your time. Whether you're on your way to church or you're sitting on the toilet or you have an allergic reaction to hair dye. If it's your time to join the lord, then it's your time."
I froze, horrified. Major WTF moment. Let me remind you that this woman is not normally like this. Maybe she hasn't been taking her happy pills and was feeling particularly imbalanced that day. Who knows. The only thing I managed to spit out was, "Uh, have you ever heard of PREVENTATIVE ACTION?!?!??
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