Silliness; Around and Around

What was that silliness I was saying last time. Something about feeling more positive about my mother's situation. How delightfully amusing.

The more I read the more confused I get. I now realize that the sum of my mother's Social Security plus my father's retirement income is greater than the Medicaid income limit. By a couple of hundred dollars. However, there may be a way around this by creating an "Income Trust."

There seems to be no end to this. What happens to the elderly person who is not wealthy or indigent? Do you wander off into the forest and die under a tree? Is there a middle-income burial ground?

However, Saturday appears to be governed by some type of black hole that gobbles up time no matter what you do.

First off I checked on a friend's cat. Had lunch at the Japanese restaurant but ate only about half the meal. Stopped by the post office.

Drove to mother's house; fed "her" cat; checked on the car; picked up various items; cleaned out the refrigerator and unplugged it; picked up the mail; put out the trash; waved at the kitty before leaving.

Stopped at the nursing home; dropped off some plastic clothes hangers and some more clothes; gave mother's pacemaker monitoring kit to the nurse; wheeled mother out onto the patio where we looked at a book called "The Most Beautful Villages of England"; agreed to buy some stationery for mother's across-the-hall neighbor; waved to anybody who would look my way; discretely ogled a cute member of the staff; and departed with laundry and wire clothes hangers.

(If the cute staff member has been looking my way, I would have cheerfully done my Faye Dunaway imitation of Joan Crawford's tirade about wire hangers from "Mommie Dearest. "No... wire... hangers. What's wire hangers doing in this closet when I told you: no wire hangers EVER?")

Onward to WalMart. I used to find shopping at WalMart sociologically intersting. Now it's become another chore. And tiring. Usually, when I reach the northwest corner of the store, I realize I've forgotten something that's in the southeast corner. I also used to enjoy the self-checkout stations. But the damn things are so onery, I've given up on them.

Once home, I had to go through the business of unload, shelving, sorting, etc., Then returned a telephone call. A skillet dinner, slightly over-cooked. Then an hour or so of checking the web for details on care for the elderly.

Now I feel edgy and out-of-sorts. I wonder why.

PAX!