That feels much better. I've been at the cuckoo's nest all day.
I get home, make a nice greek salad to eat in front of the ABC's National Trust house program.
Mother calls from the nest.
"Can you see what I'm doing with the video? It's rewinding and I can't stop it."
"I'm three kilometres away."
"well just tell me what to do." (the temptation, the temptation)
I am mentally in her bedroom, guiding fingers to buttons and getting her fingers off the remote.
"I've got all that but the DVD isn't coming through."
"You just got me to turn off the video and the TV. You didn't say you wanted a DVD to play."
"Get the remote, turn on the power button, the green one in the left hand corner. Push the round button to return to DVD play. Press the play button on the machine, the one with the triangle pointing towards the wall."
"It's playing white lines round and round."
"you've put it back to Video. Undo all the fingering you just did. Have you got a DVD in the machine?"
"Of course, I'm not stupid, just a minute while I check. DVD is in the little square slot thingy."
"Press play, triangle points to the wall."
"Playing now." Clunk goes phone.
I'm seriously thinking of phoning the Vet Clinic to see if I can do a deal with the cat and Mother.
(stupid blogger left this out or maybe I'm getting 'mother disease') All this was not said gently but in a steadily rising crescendo much like Phil Spectre's 'Wall of Noise" so the next time I see one of those disaster movies where the cook/flight attendent/somebody's cat is at the controls of a 747 and there is no shouting from the control tower, a boot is being thrown at the screen.
5 comments:
Ahhhh JayTee, you DO have a way with woids... I admire your love.
If it were me, I'd probably be asking the vet if there's a special price for three.
I closed the computer down at 8.35 and I missed her calls at 8.29 and 8.31. She didn't say anything,just held the phone up to the television so I could hear it. When I asked her this morning about it, she wanted to know if I knew which show she was watching because she couldn't remember the name. I swear I'm going to fashion a tinfoil hat in case it's catching.
if it is so terrible ... then why am I falling off the chair with convulsive mirth?
try to see you from her side of it?
(that remark comes from a woman who has just had a brief but entirely unsatisfactory verbal exchange with her 33 year-old daughter who definitely needs a one-way to the vet)
Give her MY number if there are prizes for guessing the TV show over the phone.
Breathe in, breathe out. Works every time.
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