Turning the phone on at bedtime. I thought I had to turn the volume on to use the alarm function. Girl has since pointed out what I did not notice until it was too late - there is an alarm on, everything else off setting. Duly noted, and will be employed henceforth.
At 6:15 this morning, after another night of sleeping next to the froggy frat house, my phone rang. The rave had just quieted down a bit, I was in a good, deep, needed sleep.
I will spare you a lot of ranting. Bottom line - she was in pain, her ribs are still sore from the fall out of bed on Monday when they called me at 4 o'fuckingclock on my first day of my new job to tell me this happened. She had pain pills in her possession, but still felt it was necessary to call me to ask if she should take one. At 6:15 on a Sunday morning.
My throat is sore, I am exhausted, I had hardly slept all night and had a long hard day ahead on my "holiday weekend," and I yelled at her and made her cry. I don't feel too bad about it, either, because that phone call was just plain crazy. She has to get a grip and think for herself - I am here to help in a reasonable way, I am not going to think for her, and I certainly will not let her think I am at her beck and call. We are paying shitloads of money to very nice people (she likes them just fine) for that.
There is a long backstory here, but to spare you, let me just say that this is not because she's old, or sick, or anything of the sort. She started this "Oh, I can't, do it for me" stuff when I was in high school. She tried to give up driving the day I got my license. There's a Lifetime Miniseries of Crazy Mother Drama here; I am not as mean and bitchy as I may appear. I do balance her demands against her honest needs, but give her an inch and you have to turn the ringer off the phone.
After hanging up, swearing and screaming, wondering how high my blood pressure is lately and deciding it would not help to check, and a pot of coffee and a shower, I went to the house and spent hours throwing out crap and packing up clothes and such. I took Murphy with me, because he hasn't seen me much for the last month. He enjoyed it a lot, I think he will be my little sidekick on all of these House Visits. He knew where he was immediately, and ran through the house looking for his grandparents, but then sort of gave a doggy shrug and got far more interested in exploring closets and the garage. He followed everything I did with extreme interest and got tired. I am exhausted, we will both sleep tonight. The ringer will be OFF.
I put 8 bags of crap at the curb as I left, it barely scratched the surface. This is not a comment on my mother's housekeeping, even at her age she kept a very tidy house. But she could not bear to part with a cardboard box that might be needed for something, etc., 8 bags was just the first layer of obvious crap.
Then I delivered the clothes and toiletries and other things I'd retrieved, said a quick goodbye and fled. I am wiped. I am getting sick, my throat is raw, everything aches.
Next trip, I will fetch the china and all the family photos. Must buy a dolly, because my back can't take too much more of this.