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Grizzly of Ember
Dec. 17th, 2018 08:49 pmHoly crap, this day did NOT go as planned. I spent three or four hours on the phone. That's like a part-time job. To those who may be reading here who were part of the phone time, it's not you I'm complaining about . . . it's the additional calls that came after the okay ones. The last of which was my mother keeping me on the phone for an HOUR while refusing my attempts to sign off, as she wandered off in search of a pen and ended up trying to find a file on her computer. Finally, one of the helpers came in and helped her open her file again. I said very loudly, "OKAY I'M GOING TO SAY GOODNIGHT NOW. GOODNIGHT, BYE." I wonder if she noticed. We had gone ROUND and round about her next appointment and what day it was, and what time of day it was. That's why she was looking for a pen--so she could write it down. She has in fact written it down several times, but she always loses the piece of paper. I'm not complaining. She can't help it. But I really, really wanted to get off the phone. It's an introvert's nightmare.
Last night was another five hours of sleep night. But I was rewarded for getting up by a glimpse of beautiful Venus glowing in the still-dark sky like a teardrop of white fire. And then a very pretty dawn, when it finally was time for that. The Sparrowhawk says last night at 5:07 was the earliest the sun will set. Now the days are getting shorter at the other end.
Some of today's very few accomplishments: hanging the starry animals that Queenie made along the dining room curtain rod, interspersed with stars and golden bells. This gets harder every year as I climb up and down off chairs and the stepladder, ever mindful of my many friends who have fallen off things, much to their detriment. I didn't fall off. Also, the Sparrowhawk called the cardiac unit to ask about changing Mother's arrival time to anything other than 6 am. When he finally got off hold, I heard him saying with some asperity, "You do realize she's 92 and lives an hour away." The person on the other end said "I'm just the front desk, but I can have the scheduler call you back." That didn't sound very promising, but she really did call back, and agreed Mother could come in at 8:30. That was the latest time they could give us, but it is an improvement. I feel much better now.
Last night was another five hours of sleep night. But I was rewarded for getting up by a glimpse of beautiful Venus glowing in the still-dark sky like a teardrop of white fire. And then a very pretty dawn, when it finally was time for that. The Sparrowhawk says last night at 5:07 was the earliest the sun will set. Now the days are getting shorter at the other end.
Some of today's very few accomplishments: hanging the starry animals that Queenie made along the dining room curtain rod, interspersed with stars and golden bells. This gets harder every year as I climb up and down off chairs and the stepladder, ever mindful of my many friends who have fallen off things, much to their detriment. I didn't fall off. Also, the Sparrowhawk called the cardiac unit to ask about changing Mother's arrival time to anything other than 6 am. When he finally got off hold, I heard him saying with some asperity, "You do realize she's 92 and lives an hour away." The person on the other end said "I'm just the front desk, but I can have the scheduler call you back." That didn't sound very promising, but she really did call back, and agreed Mother could come in at 8:30. That was the latest time they could give us, but it is an improvement. I feel much better now.
