I had to run around madly this morning to take care of some business stuff for me mum, and so I was at Skilled Nursing around 11:30, where I found that overnight the Halloween Elves had been busy and decorated that place up with all kinds of lovely cut out cardboard dancing skeletons and pumpkins and ghosts hanging from the ceiling and even some unsettling child sized figures with apparently stuffed orange trash bag heads. The usual coterie of elderly ladies in wheelchairs were sitting there motionlessly and it occurred to me that decorating a nursing home with skeletons and ghosts is a little macabre, to say the least. I mean, why not just string a few purple and orange lights on some of the residents? Okay, I'm going to hell for that sentence, and I know it too. Yesterday when I was visiting Mom the pastor came in. He was all nice and sincere and he said something about the Road to Hell, which, as we all know, is paved with what else but Good Intentions? So it was all I could do not to ask him if he thought good intentions were slippery, since when my bucket hits them I would like a nice quick ride on down. But I didn't say this, any more than I replied to the person who said he would pray for me & my mom the other day that I would be happy to dedicate a goat sacrifice to him at the next full moon, thanks. My brain is evil, there's no help for it.
This morning as I was dashing out the door my landlord appeared. I hardly ever see him and he never, ever calls to tell me he's coming over, which he legally is supposed to do. Of course the house is disgustingly trashed, and honey, when I say disgustingly trashed I am not talking about a few disarranged magazines on the coffee table. No, I am talking about the dog bed in the living room that Jackson decided to disembowel a few days ago so the front of the house is kind of ankle deep in stuffing and Theo is shedding so the drifts of collie fur have gotten all mixed in with the stuffing (which is a weird and unearthly blue color) and so the ambiance, what with the distinctive aroma of damp hound, is quite, um, striking. Early Kennel, I think, is the style. The dishes aren't done and there are ancient cigarette butts in the fireplace which is against my lease - my lease which says I can have one dog and one cat and not two of each. Also, the living room rug is out in the front yard propped up on coolers and chairs since I'm attempting to air it and now dry it since it got rained on the other day and the grass hasn't been mowed in about 10 days and there's camping foam and extension cords, a full ashtray and a hammer lying around on the front porch. So now I'm worrying about being evicted although I don't think you can get evicted for being a slob, and the two inches of water in the basement is just not my fault, although the rotting cardboard boxes are, okay, I grant you that.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
Posts
1 comment:
I remember going trick-or-treating at a nursing home when I was a little girl. A staff member was dressed as a some sort of goblin passing out candy. The residents were thrilled to see children there - so thrilled was one lady that she burst into tears, reached out grabbed and clutched me to her chest. All I remember after that is her shrieking, in a rather ghostly manner, as my mother pried me from her grasp.
Post a Comment