I crawl over in the cold on Monday and storm out in a blaze of sunshine. Don't ask, you already know the usual reasons.
Tuesday was slightly better except it was the wrong day for the movie I wanted to see and in my post-mother hysteria, I really didn't need to watch Wolverine.
This morning was quite mind bending.
The BrickOutHouse went to bed at 3 a.m. and mother went to the bathroom and all the lights were out.
Even her torch wouldn't work.
She only made it back to bed by following the white patch on the cat.
Then the top light wouldn't work.
Then the DVD player came on by itself.
Then the TV came on by itself and turned itself off.
She still couldn't get the torch to work.
The room was pitch dark.
But she could see the street lights weren't working.
The BrickOutHouse was going to work and said goodbye. She told him about the lights.
He went to bed at 8 pm.
His electric clock was still working.
The power didn't go off.
He grabs the phone to tell me this and I tell him to check the torch to see if she has put the batteries in it.
Torch works fine.
Front door slams.
Mother says he doesn't know what he's talking about since he was asleep when the lights went out.
Would you like to hear about the egg exploding in the microwave?
Didn't think so.
Okay, I'll go back to working out what diagenetically related minerals mean or maybe I'll just go back to bed and put my head under the pillows.
13 comments:
Huh? What? 3am. 8pm. Exploding eggs and no lights. Glow in the dark cat. I'm confused.
River - Mother is operating totally in a 'reality' that is exclusively hers.
We are pleased to hear she cannot figure out how to turn on a lightswitch, because it means we are closer to the day when she forgets how to ring the Complaints Dept.
"She only made it back to bed by following the white patch on the cat."
That's why she sleeps in the litter tray nowadays then.
River, you're reading this at a reasonable hour, try working it out at 8 a.m. I'm still trying to work out the egg since it was already cooked, not in a shell and as far as I know, it's what she had for tea on Monday night. Egg and asparagus mornay and it looked very nice and the egg was chopped up, in sauce with the asparagus.
Annie O, she is living in an alternate Universe where everything she says makes sense. I still can't figure out the cat though, since the white bit is on the front so the cat must have been walking backwards. Surreal.
Fleetwood, the cat refuses to have a litter box, it prefers the great outdoors. In the way of all cats, she's sussed out the duckdown doona already and loves it.
Heh, I should have my nanna nap before I read this stuff, obviously.
It's all wibbly-wobbly, timey-whimey...too much Doctor Who for your mother, J ;)
"She only made it back to bed by following the white patch on the cat."
Rescue cat! What a smart kitty. I hope it was thanked.
Hi. My name is Liberace. I wish George was here.
Mother is at home, cutting eyeholes in pillowcases. She wears them on her head when she goes out.
I had a road accident last week. I was angry, I said: "I'll sue you for one million dollars." He said: "A million arseholes, you will!" I said, "Oh, alrighty, but let's keep it confidential."
Tee hee hee.
-Liberace.
(RH is vulgar. A vulgar ma-a-a-a-n)
I don't mind and don't care but I've just been deleted -for making an indelicate comment about women- by a woman who calls herself a Harlot.
Terribly funny.
Really.
It reminds me of a time at 79 Grey Street when a bloke I was with called a prostitute (with a broken arm in plaster) a moll and she chased us all the way down to Fitzroy Street.
"o'dyne" and "jayne" call people like me shit saying I don't deserve the oxygen I breathe but I'll be breathing when your forgotten graves are under a freeway, a shopping centre, or a fucking high rise block of flats.
Jayne, my mother doesn't 'get' science fiction. She's seeing spiders now but then so am I. I have a colony of 3 tiny ones in the lamp near the computer. If they get any bigger, they're fried.
Duckie, I'd say the cat was racing her back to the duckdown doona.
Robbert, Why do you do this to yourself? You'd be better off playing with tigers because eventually we women will kill you.
You must have been very insulting, the Baron is usually tolerant of bad manners, up to a point.
Public-housing tenants in Williamstown's high rise have lesser facilities but a better view than toffs living in those shit stick high rises along smog-choked St Kilda Road.
How amusing.
Mein Gott...what planet did this all happen on...jesus
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