My "harsh" attitude re my mother's nerves worked beyond my wildest expectations - she has ratcheted the hysteria down many, many notches, and we are now having nearly calm, actually reasonable conversations, in which she says the doctors are keeping her well informed and he's doing okay. She's doing fine. Imagine that - I knew she would, but she didn't. Had I rushed over there to play Rescuing Good Daughter, she never would have had to cope and realize she can.
And she says my father is now ready to entertain moving into a senior-living apartment. Halle-freakin-luia. We'll see how many times they backpedal on that concept, I'm not going to say anything more, I spoke my piece and I'm done. It may just be his meds talking, and when the current crisis passes they'll be back to "normal."
It's not that I really hate dealing with my parents THAT much, I just need to be able to manage interaction with them, because "their terms" are not reasonable. Often they're not even actually rational. When I think of how they could have been enjoying their retirement years, living in a low-stress, low maintenance apartment with professional help on hand if needed, and me close enough to at least come by for lunch once a week, maybe going to a theater performance or some other outing now and then, eating in the clubhouse when they didn't feel like cooking, maybe playing cards - damn, I'm ready to sign up! They do nothing but bitch because I live "so far awaaaay..." but I am not the one in a position to move, they are. I am nowhere near retirement, I have decades of experience invested in a specialized career that I can't just trade in on something else (I could go be a Walmart checkout girl! There ya go!) and I have way too much going on in my own life to commute 2 hours each way for everything that happens. They can afford to move, they need another single family house like a hole in their heads, and maybe this will be the kick in the ass to motivate them. Or maybe not.
All I can think is that if they were in an independent living situation in a senior community with on-site medical care, somebody would have checked his freakin' blood gasses when he started feeling crappy on Friday, before he hit a crisis and ended up in the ICU on Monday. Do they want to wait until they do this again? Arrgh. I know, I know, it's not my decision. What-everrrrr....
The painting is done. At least, it's done enough. I will put a friggin' 40 watt bulb in the hall if I see another streak. I know I'm going to see smutches and splootches and need to touch up later, but enough's enough here. If I ever say I'm painting a slightly darker shade of off-white (that goes on lighter and dries darker) over a shade of off white that was originally a cheap grade of paint that doesn't cover easily, in a room that doesn't get much natural light to begin with, when I'm dealing with parental crises and working hours of overtime a week, smack me. Hard.
However, I am much more in love with that Balance color I used in the Girlchild's old room, and when I have the strength to paint again (not for many months, believe me) I think I may use that in my own room. It's a warm, complexion-flattering shade of cream, and I'm picturing it with good makeup lighting in my dressing area.
Knitterly speaking: I picked up the vanilla cardigan and finished all the shoulder shaping, save for one last row. Then it's straight back and forth until I hit 11 inches, then we split for fronts, sleeves, back. It's a dull as dishwater Catherine Special in Soothing Stockinette, but I like it.
Two pair of socks in progress, one is Sock One Done, Sock Two Not Started. The other is halfway through Sock Two. I'm not thrilled with them though, and I started them so long ago I lost the ball band. It's a cotton sock yarn of some sort, I can't remember the brand but I'm sure the band was not in English. It's not bad, it's just Eh. They are very floppy socks. They could use Sock Viagra. I picture them getting all stretched out and useless after a couple of wearings, but maybe I'm wrong.
I'm off tomorrow for the carpet install. At long last, there will be new carpet! Oh my God, the carpet that is there now is truly disgusting, like the floor of a bus station or something, and I'm not exaggerating. I can't wait until I am not embarrassed to have people walk down that hall to the bathroom - I mean, why use the bathroom when it looks like an army marched through and pissed in the hall?
While the installers are toiling, I will be knitting. I have a gold-plated excuse to sit on my ass all day. And I've earned it.