Was the person who wrote Groundhog Day retired, because that’s pretty much the way my life is. There’s a definite sameness to my days, and I think back on my gramma when she was my age, and think our lives are not all that dissimilar. She’d make breakfast, do dishes, make beds, vacuum, make lunch, do the dishes again, then was quite happy to sit in the living room smoking her Matinees while watching her soaps for the rest of the afternoon.
In my case you can substitute YouTube for T.V. and the result is pretty much the same. I like to fool myself into thinking I’m learning something, and at times there’s a documentary that does teach me a fact or two, but the majority of it, according to my algorithm, is true crime and what kind of crap Trump is up to.
Then there are the on-going lunches which I love to do. My friend Lona who used to work at Rucastle and Schiller was here on Tuesday, and as she has four books on Amazon, I needed her valuable advice on my vanity project. It appears I’ll have to shell out several hundred dollars for the formatting as my book has a lot of pictures and needs someone who knows what they’re doing. As you know, this isn’t me.
Yesterday Elsa and I went to thrift, then returned for lunch and had leftover spinach quiche. I bought a painting, then didn’t like where we’d hung it, and today managed to redecorate my bedroom. I hung the new painting over my bed, then realized the bedspread was all wrong so returned to my old green leaf theme. Now I walk into my room every few minutes just to admire my own genius.
Marie’s a stalwart when it comes to lunch. A couple of weeks ago I thawed and heated up a soup I’d made after Christmas with the turkey carcass. To jazz it up I added some really freaky looking purple Japanese yams. Anyway, suffice to say we choked it down and Marie was brave enough to eat all of it with just a hint of surprise at the inferior lunch being presented.
And then I’ve walked Mission Creek with Sharon, and had coffee with John Patterson, so my life ticks along in a comfortable groove. Sharon and I meet at the same place and do the same walk each time. John and I always go to Specialty Bakery, and we get a deep-fried donut of some kind (he goes for the apple fritters) and we have coffee. I’m a creature of habit so all of this is good.
To say mom’s a handful is like saying a rabid dog loose in a daycare would be a problem. But even here we have predictability. In my daily call to mom she informs me the women who come daily at 9:00 are really not needed. Mom said she explained to one of them the other day they don’t really do a lot for the money she’s paying. I said how did Karen take that then? Mom said oh she totally agreed with me.
They’re good, eh? A company with workers trained to work with the elderly. It’s a help to me as mom lives to talk. I’m like my dad, I’m good with silence. So even if these women come for one hour a day and do nothing but talk, it’s worth it to me. And of course no matter what mom says I know they make the bed, dress her, do the dishes, make her coffee, etc. in that hour. Saves my mental health quite cheaply.