We have been having a not so good time with Mumzilla. We think that she tried so hard to appear normal and in control on Saturday during a sisterly visit that it threw her way off balance for every day since.
This woman will blame everyone up to God and the Devil for everything that she does wrong, anybody but her. I don't think God or the Devil had anything to do with taking apart the vacuum cleaner and not being able to put it back together again. I thought after the sewing machine incident before Christmas, which was, taking it apart and not being able to put it together again, that I had hidden all the screwdrivers in the house. You might remember that this is someone who can't get her pills out of a blister pack without using a pair of scissors.
And why was the vacuum cleaner needed? Because it's been chilly the last few mornings and she wanted the fire on. She couldn't put the fire on because the filter needed cleaning and she couldn't clean that without the vacuum but the vacuum needed cleaning first. This, in spite of the fact that I checked it on Monday and there was nothing wrong with it but Mrs. Neverwrong decided there was.
The BrickOutHouse came home to a gutted machine and demands that he do something about it immediately. After he fixed that (he didn't) he was to go and replace all the bathroom towells he's been stealing (he hasn't) and then go and buy her fresh milk and bread (I'd done that) as it's the only thing she asks of him (bullshit). Mrs Neverwrong refused to look in the fridge to see there wasn't any need to buy milk and bread. BrickOutHouse leaves for his girlfriend's place but not before he asks me to put Mrs. Neverwrong somewhere, anywhere so she can't hurt herself or burn the house down by leaving the fire going on a hot day. Back to why we wouldn't clean the space heater.
I have been stressed, my sister is stressed, more about her son than Mrs Neverwrong and he is stressed because of Mrs Neverwrong. I was so stressed I didn't want chocolate, ice-cream or cake. Seven years a vegetarian and what did I want, a pork roast with crackling and gravy, meat party pies, ham off the bone sandwich with apricot relish and, droolingly, sausages cooked over an open fire, put on a slab of fresh white bread and smothered in tomato sauce.
Since all or any of these would have me riding the porcelain bus for a week, I deduce they're subliminal suicidal thoughts and have Tofu instead. Sounds healthy but it wasn't. I layered it with Nicola potatoes, sundried tomato and basil pasta sauce and smothered the top with aged Parmesan cheese.
I can't even begin to tell you the rest of what she's done this week. I've been barred from going there until Monday so my sister can assess just how much the old girl can do without backup. Sis will cook her evening meal and that's it but because she couldn't get home to do that last night Mrs Neverwrong had a jam sandwich for tea but that was nourishing because it was strawberry jam and that's fruit and she's never wrong.
12 comments:
Have you thought about installing one or several of those "nanny cams" to record the stuff your mum gets up to? Then you could show the footage to the doctor or health sister so they can see that you are telling the truth about the shenanigans that go on when they're not there.
"I was so stressed I didn't want chocolate, ice-cream or cake."
Bloody 'Ell! Suicide Alert Time!
River, the doc already knows that most of it is mental but she's not crazy enough to go anywhere. She's not leaving the house except feet first, full stop. It's wearying trying to separate fact from fiction, more wearying to shut up as arguing gets us nowhere. We know that this semblance of control that she has is very fragile and if she lets go, it will be the end.
My dear Fleetwood, suicide is not an option while your beloved ugly moosh is still in my thoughts right beside the aristocratic visage of Lord Sedgwick. Oh, I am such a Cheshire cat for the Upper Crust.
"the aristocratic visage of Lord Sedgwick"
... as imprinted on the jockstrap of Turin.
"Oh, I am such a Cheshire cat for the Upper Crust."
... like parents used to say, "eat your crusts they'll curl your hair."
YUP!
That would be on the inside M'Lord?
I was just watching a programme on the battle of Agincourt and wouldn't you know it, a band of Lancashire longbow men created havoc in a tavern brawl before they even left England. Nowt's changed, Fleetwood.
Witchy,
Are you refering to the fact that we Lancastrians enjoy a good punch up in the pub, or the fact that we've all got extremely long bows?
Witchy's all a quiver at the thought of all those extremely long Lancastrian bows, and if you believe Lord Scrofulous of Fleetwood's own publicity, also hung, drawn and courted.
Oh, I know this is wrong but.. that made me laugh. I do feel for you but...
oh god.... the inside of the jock strap of turin? You people need help....
Verify that statement Fleetwood, photos will be published.
Don't you worry about photos, Sedgwick of Strathmore, numerous bloggers can testify about your short comings.
Bella, you're far too young to be reading the comments made by these disreputable reprobates.
Whew! What can one say? Lets hope something else gives before you do thats all
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