Over at my Mom’s house almost all day sorting through crap and throwing bunches of it out, moving furniture around etc and only having one donut to eat all day, because stitches in muh mouf and shit.
Come home fucking exhausted and take a nap in the recliner. Wake up, get up and go in the kitchen. Find the little bowls of Dinty Moore Beef Stew, heat a couple up and finally eat something.
Sitting here minding my own business and the house phone rings.
It’s the Wifely Unit’s Mom, 35 miles away.
80 years old and in failing health. The Mom tells The Wife that she took a tumble in the kitchen because her legs let go. The Dad, who has Altzheimers, helps her up and gets her into the bathroom because she needs to go. Now she can’t get off the toilet and her legs “Feel Funny”.
GET OFF THE DAMN PHONE AND CALL AN AMBULANCE FOR CRYING OUT LOUD!
WTF you think we can do from THIRTY FIVE MILES AWAY?!
Get that message across. I tell the Wife that either her or one of her sisters is going to have to go over there and take care of the Dad until we find out what the hell is going on with her Mom because he can’t hardly take care of himself alone, the Wife not being there confuses him and he can’t hit his ass with either hand.
Now The Wifely Unit is in a tizzy, running around here like a chicken with it’s head cut off trying to gather up a bunch of shit with no warning so she can pack up our oldest boy to go over there and take care of the Dad.
I still have to go back to my Moms and finish going through shit because the Dumpster is only going to be there so long, plus I have to go back to work tomorrow night at 6 until 2.
There isn’t a cloud in the sky and it is just pouring.