Necessity is quite a mother

Just over two years since i moved into my condo… and it remains a home decorating disaster. 

With the assistance of a “Color Coordinator” person, i got some of it painted.  With the assistance of my daughterAmy Sedaris and a brown dog in a tuxedo, i managed to develop a plan for the living room.  Sort of…

Since last winter, i haven’t really made any progress – not counting the bit of finger painting that was created by a transient drunken youth in my basement.  The colors were ok, so i framed it and and parked it over the sofa until i find something else for that big ol’ empty space…

i really have no excuse, other than the fact that i’m lazy and really don’t care all that much about “stuff”.  i get annoyed with it from time to time, especially when  i open the drawers of my particle-board dresser and the entire thing sways precariously to the right because the quarter-inch bit of plywood on the back has broken and is no longer providing structural support.

Oops.  Gotta add a new chest of drawers to the list… When i get around to doing the bedroom.  One of these days.   Probably after i get a new dining room table.  And the wine cabinet/bar thingie i picked out last year.  Oooh, and hang that gorgeous bedspread that my Dad’s mother made for her wedding night.  And find something that is not a drunken finger painting for my living room wall.

Did i mention i’m lazy?

In fact, i’m so lazy, that it takes a concept that feeds my extreme laziness to get me off my ass to start moving on the next round of improvements.  Simple in concept, relatively inexpensive, and the project can probably be completed in about two hours worth of shopping, and thirty minutes of piecing together a bit of flat pack furniture.

It will be within arms reach of my bed.  i will be able to stretch a sleepy arm to my side, whack a button, and snag that first jolt of caffeine before my feet come in contact with the floor.  There is going to be a coffee bar in my bedroom.  i am THAT lazy…

Design drawings for the mechanical arm that brings a cup to my pillow-wrinkled face and pours a stream of life-giving caffeine down my throat will be considered from all qualified vendors…

and it’s a damn fine coffee, too!

Rest and recovery – nuggets…

Damn.  i could get used to this.  What have i been thinking all these years?  Work?  Screw that…

– Watched 4 episodes of “Weeds”.  oh, yeah.  The rest of Season 4 will be happening when i wake up from my next nap.  Naps.  Oh, yeah…

– Woke up from my morning nap yesterday to visit with a friend from work.  RJak brought my work laptop to me from the repair shop so i could, in theory, stay connected to the office drama.  Whatever…  RJak was slightly surprised to find me in a tank top and underwear.  This is just what i do when home…  i had arranged to have a couple techs stop by to tweak bugs in my home audio system.  When the doorbell rang, announcing the arrival of the techs, i stood up to get the door – she said:  “i’ll get the door.  You get pants.”  Whatever…  Took another nap after they left.  Sweet…

– My ‘to do’ list for yesterday?  Phone orthopedic surgeons office to make follow up appointment.  Nap.  Shower.

– Last night for dinner?  RJak stopped by again, bearing the most perfect gift:  A box of Thin Mint Girl Scout Cookies.  Mix that with a little gin and tonic, plus a delivered pizza – not to mention tons of ‘girl talk’ with RJak and The Girl?  Perfect evening…

– The dog is getting his ‘out’ time, but not really getting his usual morning/evening walks.  Once i’m driving again?  There is a solution at hand…

i-dont-wanna-work

This land is your land…

Endless frustrations from The Trailer Park last week – regarding Dad’s  tenor sax – which is still MIA – as well as day-to-day operations.  It’s a good thing i’m currently 2500 miles away.  I’m two Hershey Bars shy of unleashing fire and brimstone.

Last Sunday, i stopped by Mom’s to take her out to lunch, and also do some hands-on digging through the decades of life-shrapnel that clutters her house.  No luck finding the saxophone, but that’s an evolving story for another day.

Then there was this little slice of the good life…

After the ice and snow from Tuesday the previous week, i discovered Mom’s driveway still buried.  She’d put some ice-melting chemicals down, to no avail.  There was a path through the snow in her yard out to the mailbox, where she’d walked daily to get the mail and newspaper all week.

She’s 80, walks with a cane.  And has absolutely no fucking business walking on ice and snow.  Oh, and have i mentioned that my niece, DQ, her husband and 14 year old daughter live NEXT DOOR? 

After lunch, i grabbed a shovel, and with the help of some unexpected sunshine, beat through the ice, clearing the driveway.  If the lazy, unemployed DQ couldn’t shovel, or send her hard-working husband over to dig it out, she could have AT LEAST* brought in the mail/paper.  Or sent her daughter over to do it since school was out all week…

Returning inside, i found several light bulbs out – and replaced them.  i’m thinking Mom really doesn’t need to be climbing the stepladder to replace light bulbs, either. 

Trying to keep my head from exploding manage my anger, i shared my frustrations with Mom.  DQ refuses to work so she can stay home and take care of Mom and the 16 month old spawn baby, DQ, III.  Last year, DQ used an emotional blackmail technique, telling Mom that she’ll move some day and have to leave her behind – thus convincing Mom to buy 17 acres in the country.  Mom has also applied for a construction loan so DQ and her husband can build a house, complete with “mother-in-law” apartment for Mom. 

Given that the rest of us aren’t lining up to take care of Mom, and that she’s militant about not moving to an assisted living apartment (which she sees as the first step toward a nursing home), it seemed a sound approach to helping Mom maintain a reasonable quality of life**.  The plan was that Mom would pay for her square footage, and then DQ and BJ would make payments on what they build for themselves.

Works well in theory…  Unfortunately, DQ’s exponentially expanding waistline sense of entitlement drove “requirements creep”, doubling the amount of square footage from the original plan, and the loan application is in limbo.  Nothing is happening, but Mom now owns 17 wooded acres.  Mom explained that she’s frustrated, too, feeling that she has no options… saying that it seems that house will never get built. 

Mom:  I don’t know what else to do – I think I’m stuck here.

daisyfae:  That land is yours, still has value, and can be sold.  We can take the money from that, gut this place, and make it easily accessible and very comfortable for you.  You’ll need to let folks come in and help you, though, but we can get this place fixed up quite nicely for what you spent on that land!  New kitchen, new bathroom…

Mom: Oh, I just figured i’d give DQ the land…

daisyfae:  Why?  For shoveling your fucking driveway?

Brains... if we only had some brains...

Brains... if we only had some brains...

* To her credit, she had been sending over food a few times during the bad weather to make sure mom had decent things to eat.  And she calls daily…  DQ, Jr apparently tried to help clear some of the snow.  With my 80 year old mother…  UGH!

** Despite the obvious benefit to DQ of getting a brand new house built, on 17 wooded acres, and ending up with just a portion of the mortgage, she DOES take care of most of Mom’s basic needs.  To quote Joni Mitchell (“shadows and light”), “The perils of benefactors…. The blessings of parasites…”.   DQ has historically been very clever at manipulation of Mom’s resources, but at the same time, provides much needed support.  So i stand watch.  To make sure the balance doesn’t go too far out of whack…