Thursday, August 21, 2008
And Things Just Go On
My mother is totally getting better, even though yesterday it turned out that the MRSA is in her lungs, which scared the hell out of me. However, the massive antibiotics seem to be working: she's still getting better and is in fact healthy enough to be reading The Other Boleyn Girl, which she finds utterly terrible and yet cannot put down. She may even be out of the hospital by Sunday. Meanwhile, I'm flat refusing to obey the isolation rules because I feel, in my considered, professional opinion, that they are totally fucking stupid. I just stand far away from her - what, did the hospital think we were one of those touchy feely hugging families? God forbid! - and wash my hands a lot when I move things around her room as I am instructed to do. Everything must be neat and organized at all times. They should let my mother loose in that hospital. She'd clean away all this MRSA stuff, stat.
The roller coaster house is currently on a down slope. Things ain't looking so good. Nobody normal who buys a house has to go through this kind of thing and I have a lot of rotten thoughts I will keep to myself for the time being. I keep telling myself that all these relationships are not supposed to be adversarial, but holy shit, they sure feel that way. I know this is complicated, cobbling together semi regular loans and grants and no interest loans, and I know that I am attempting to be that terrible affront to society, a choosy beggar, but I'm starting to feel like these people really don't want me to buy a house. Tell me why, exactly, again that they can dictate to me the condition of my house? As long as it isn't going to, you know, fall in and kill anyone? In the meantime, I've spent enough money and time now that if this one doesn't come through then it will all be too late for me to ever get another. The money's already gone and I can't go through this roller coaster again.
On a lighter note, Pebble got up on the roof. She climbs up the screen door when it is open, and, while she used to just swing back and forth, suspended and trying to play with the dangling chain, now she's big enough to hop to the roof. I was scared until I remembered that Pebble will pretty much do anything at all for canned cat food and when I went and got some and opened it, crooning Nom Nom! at her, she came skittering back. So I, wobbling a bit on my tiptoes on a kitchen stool on the deck, grabbed her and told her about the terrible roof dwelling kitten eaters, which fazed her not a bit.
To keep her occupied, I put batteries in the battery operated rolling rat I bought tonight at Wal Mart (oh yeah, and I went to Wal Mart tonight. As usual after a trip to Wal Mart, I now hate all of humanity with an undying passion and hope to wipe the entire world out. By the way.) Yes, the real rats are gone and I had to go buy a plastic one that rolls hither and yon. It's hilarious. I'm going to resurrect my old camera and take movies. Unfortunately, it kind of scares Pebble but the dogs are beyond delighted to chase it and bark madly. Now if only Pebble could get interested in the plastic squeaky rack of ribs I got for the dogs so they wouldn't be jealous (I am clinically insane, yes) there would be balance in the universe. Until I wipe it out, at least.