L is off again to "The Property" this time. She just got home from Bear Lake, had the week from HELL and hit the high road. I don't blame her, I spent last Thursday and Friday in bed with the famous tachycardia. Fourteen hours worth, only to wake up with a hianus case of hives. Yeah, baby, I'm just living right. As I am wallowing in my misery, L calls to tell me she not only got a bad case of sun stroke, but sun poisoning as well. Boy, I'm telling you, it just doesn't get better than this.
In the mean time, the "boys" have been working on the T & L art studio. Yes, it is true that all the walls are up, the siding is on, the tile has been set and the furniture assembled. However, while painting the walls, drop clothes did not seem to be on the list of priorities. I spent two days scraping paint off the newly installed tile and praying that the Grand Canyon that was dug for the electrical work will be filled in soon before all of my lawn dies. The wheels of progress move ever so slowly and patience has never been a virtue I possess.
On the lighter side, grandma got the splint off of her shoulder, just in time to announce that the right shoulder is giving her some trouble and may need surgery. I could see this one coming a mile away. Perfect, eight more weeks of a huge pain in my rear end. But you have to take the humor where you can get it. I realized yesterday, while we were drawing straws to see who had to go visit grandma, how funny things are. Picture this, Katy, Wade and I are in the kitchen presenting our cases against going to the rehab center. This is how it went: Wade, "But I always have to pull out her chin hairs, and you know how disgusting those can be. Why doesn't she just wax like everyone else?" Katy, "Well, if you think that's bad, I had to clip her toenails. Don't they have people that can do that? And lets not mention that I have given her three manicures since she got there." "Well", I say, "She saves her poop attach until I get there and I am the one that has to pull down her pants and wipe her butt. Plus, I pay her bills and wash her clothes." In the end we all went, including the dog. She needed to see Duke, get her clean clothes and secure her supply of Diet Coke and Baby Ruth's. It is true. grandma is a pain, but at 94 she is still as mean and bossy as ever. We tow the line, believe me. She rarely goes a day without a visitor. God help us.
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