WildGinger of Leave
Oct. 10th, 2023 09:49 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
ismoThis was Madame Day, as she is having her second cataract surgery tomorrow. I got a fair amount of sleep last night, which was nice for a change. It was a chilly, blustery day. It hardly got above 50. Yet the trees are still mostly green. The hickories are turning, but haven't gone all the way gold yet. Surely the color will show up sometime soon--maybe next week.
Everything went smoothly with Madame. Mademoiselle took her to visit another retirement community in the morning, and said she'd drop her off at the book store, so all I had to do was get myself there. I had a very brief amount of time to browse around, and succeeded in finding a birthday card for my niece, which was my main objective. Madame is very unsettled by the thought of moving out of her house, but it sounds as if she found the place at least somewhat congenial. It sounded as if she was leaning toward doing it. I think Mademoiselle can't deal with being the sole caregiver for much longer. She needs her mom to be in a safe place. I hope this is really a good fit and not a last resort--but all things considered, Madame would be better off almost anywhere than she is now. She really wanted me to go back over there with her to see it, but I told her I couldn't because the painters were coming and I had to go and get ready for that. This changed the topic to the iniquities of children who make the upstairs shower leak and ruin your downstairs bathroom ceiling! Apparently this has happened to her before. Mademoiselle had also taken pains to put the garage door opener in a special pocket of her purse, so she was able to find it and get inside.
In fact, the painters had to put us off because they have a staffing shortage. That's a relief, because I still didn't get my office cleared out for them. I was thinking about it, when the Dilapidated Handyman who works for the guy next door showed up. He's a bit spooky, because he just appears in the front window and waves at us, then goes to the door to speak. Today he asked if he could have a drink of water--his normal request--because the guy next door was not home and he had to wait for him. Since it was a cold day, I asked if he would like coffee instead, and let him come in and sit at the table to drink it. He said his truck broke down about a mile away and he had walked over, and his legs hurt. He was hoping the guy next door would give him a ride home. We chatted a bit, mostly about horrible medical issues. He would have liked to borrow our ladder, but Timothy wouldn't lend it to him, for fear of liability if he fell off the roof next door. The poor guy--I really feel for him, but I wouldn't contribute to his well-being by letting him work on our house, because nothing in his life works, ever. I know Trouble when I see it walking down my street.
Everything went smoothly with Madame. Mademoiselle took her to visit another retirement community in the morning, and said she'd drop her off at the book store, so all I had to do was get myself there. I had a very brief amount of time to browse around, and succeeded in finding a birthday card for my niece, which was my main objective. Madame is very unsettled by the thought of moving out of her house, but it sounds as if she found the place at least somewhat congenial. It sounded as if she was leaning toward doing it. I think Mademoiselle can't deal with being the sole caregiver for much longer. She needs her mom to be in a safe place. I hope this is really a good fit and not a last resort--but all things considered, Madame would be better off almost anywhere than she is now. She really wanted me to go back over there with her to see it, but I told her I couldn't because the painters were coming and I had to go and get ready for that. This changed the topic to the iniquities of children who make the upstairs shower leak and ruin your downstairs bathroom ceiling! Apparently this has happened to her before. Mademoiselle had also taken pains to put the garage door opener in a special pocket of her purse, so she was able to find it and get inside.
In fact, the painters had to put us off because they have a staffing shortage. That's a relief, because I still didn't get my office cleared out for them. I was thinking about it, when the Dilapidated Handyman who works for the guy next door showed up. He's a bit spooky, because he just appears in the front window and waves at us, then goes to the door to speak. Today he asked if he could have a drink of water--his normal request--because the guy next door was not home and he had to wait for him. Since it was a cold day, I asked if he would like coffee instead, and let him come in and sit at the table to drink it. He said his truck broke down about a mile away and he had walked over, and his legs hurt. He was hoping the guy next door would give him a ride home. We chatted a bit, mostly about horrible medical issues. He would have liked to borrow our ladder, but Timothy wouldn't lend it to him, for fear of liability if he fell off the roof next door. The poor guy--I really feel for him, but I wouldn't contribute to his well-being by letting him work on our house, because nothing in his life works, ever. I know Trouble when I see it walking down my street.
