EnglishIvy of Bloom
Jun. 13th, 2023 10:06 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
ismoThis day was an introvert's nightmare, as I spent at least six hours of it TALKING. To PEOPLE! Wow. First I went and picked up Madame, and I have to say today's visit was not the best I've ever had. Same continuing problem with exiting the house: she tries to emerge from the door in the garage, but then remembers that she doesn't have the garage door opener, so she can't close the garage behind her. She suggests craftily that one could just run really fast, and I have to regretfully inform her that I tried that last time, and I couldn't do it. I'm not that fast, and she certainly is not. So then she goes back through the garage, closes the door from the inside, and comes out via the front door and the killer steps that come down from it. There's no handrail. The steps are concrete. I insist on taking her purse, and she then hobbles down with cane in one hand and the other hand leaning on the brick wall beside the steps. Once in the car, she realizes that she has left her hearing aid behind, so I go back inside and get it for her, and put it together, because she can't make the parts connect. She is amazed by my dexterity and can't imagine how I did that.
Our usual route is blocked due to construction, so I have to go all around Robin Hood's barn to get to the cafe. Once inside, we navigate the ordering process. The counter person is masked again, so she can't hear a word he/she says. (Person is of gender ambiguity, but did not tell me their pronouns even when asked--just murmured "oh, you're fine." So one does not know.) I take on the role of interpreter to tell her they are saying that they are out of artichokes, so no artichoke sandwich, and to tell them that she wants a latte with oat milk. Once again we discuss the puzzling question of why they arbitrarily stopped making artichoke wraps. Sadly, Madame is utterly intransigent that she can and WILL drive her car, regardless of the very unfair test she was given. She thinks everyone is against her and has been hanging up on her long-suffering daughters right and left. She has received a letter from the testing authorities that gives her the option to have an actual driving test, in a car. She plots to get herself there somehow and do it, confident that she'll pass! (When I told the Sparrowhawk this, he said that he would be surprised if they'd even let her get behind the wheel once they saw her coming. Well, she does look a wee bit decrepit, and is not only quite deaf, but needs cataract surgery.) Mademoiselle has assisted her in finding a more mature woman who can come in for a few hours a week and "help" her. ("I don't need 'help'!" she says haughtily.) They had tried a young one with whom she did not get on at all. She likes this one, so that's nice. But it is in no way a long-term solution. I just have to take a step back and observe with detachment, because this is a disaster in the making, but there's nothing I can do about it.
Whew. So then I got her back into her house again, dashed home, and had a wee bit of down time in which I wrote a letter to my editor gently poking him about whether he was ever going to get back to me about the novel I sent him lo these many eons ago. We then had a lively Zoom with Deb and the Prussian in which much interesting information about our various adventures with family etc. was shared, to the edification of all. We wrapped up our conversation 15 minutes before someone picked me up to attend a women's group of ladies from church. I was invited to join awhile ago, but got covid and couldn't go last time. We went all around Robin Hood's barn too, because the coffee shop where we meant to meet closed early, the next one was too small, and we had to find yet a third one, which fortunately was just right. I bought a bagel, because I hadn't had time for dinner. We also had a lively discussion that lasted until 8 pm. I was dropped off at home and was lying exhausted on the couch watching people make bad decisions about beach houses when the Sparrowhawk got home from his matching men's group. My editor had responded with unusual alacrity, confessing he hadn't read my manuscript yet (oh, for SHAME!!) and apologizing profusely. Sigh . . . . I DON'T want him to be so apologetic that he calls me up, because he TALKS and I have had quite enough of that for one day.
Our usual route is blocked due to construction, so I have to go all around Robin Hood's barn to get to the cafe. Once inside, we navigate the ordering process. The counter person is masked again, so she can't hear a word he/she says. (Person is of gender ambiguity, but did not tell me their pronouns even when asked--just murmured "oh, you're fine." So one does not know.) I take on the role of interpreter to tell her they are saying that they are out of artichokes, so no artichoke sandwich, and to tell them that she wants a latte with oat milk. Once again we discuss the puzzling question of why they arbitrarily stopped making artichoke wraps. Sadly, Madame is utterly intransigent that she can and WILL drive her car, regardless of the very unfair test she was given. She thinks everyone is against her and has been hanging up on her long-suffering daughters right and left. She has received a letter from the testing authorities that gives her the option to have an actual driving test, in a car. She plots to get herself there somehow and do it, confident that she'll pass! (When I told the Sparrowhawk this, he said that he would be surprised if they'd even let her get behind the wheel once they saw her coming. Well, she does look a wee bit decrepit, and is not only quite deaf, but needs cataract surgery.) Mademoiselle has assisted her in finding a more mature woman who can come in for a few hours a week and "help" her. ("I don't need 'help'!" she says haughtily.) They had tried a young one with whom she did not get on at all. She likes this one, so that's nice. But it is in no way a long-term solution. I just have to take a step back and observe with detachment, because this is a disaster in the making, but there's nothing I can do about it.
Whew. So then I got her back into her house again, dashed home, and had a wee bit of down time in which I wrote a letter to my editor gently poking him about whether he was ever going to get back to me about the novel I sent him lo these many eons ago. We then had a lively Zoom with Deb and the Prussian in which much interesting information about our various adventures with family etc. was shared, to the edification of all. We wrapped up our conversation 15 minutes before someone picked me up to attend a women's group of ladies from church. I was invited to join awhile ago, but got covid and couldn't go last time. We went all around Robin Hood's barn too, because the coffee shop where we meant to meet closed early, the next one was too small, and we had to find yet a third one, which fortunately was just right. I bought a bagel, because I hadn't had time for dinner. We also had a lively discussion that lasted until 8 pm. I was dropped off at home and was lying exhausted on the couch watching people make bad decisions about beach houses when the Sparrowhawk got home from his matching men's group. My editor had responded with unusual alacrity, confessing he hadn't read my manuscript yet (oh, for SHAME!!) and apologizing profusely. Sigh . . . . I DON'T want him to be so apologetic that he calls me up, because he TALKS and I have had quite enough of that for one day.
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Date: 2023-06-15 03:50 am (UTC)