Back to work today. Probably too much. Inundated the moment I walked in the front door. Relief in the eyes of those unaccustomed to making hard decisions. I’m back. They’re relieved of duty. I muddle through stacks of paper, set aside decisions that should have been made. A few hot button problems, setting a touch too long.
In the mean time, my Southern aunt and her daughter-in-law arrived today at my aunt’s foster home care facility. They wanted an accounting from the new doctor re when my aunt can travel South ‘to stay awhile.’ Showing they are really f—ing in tune, they bestow upon my aunt one goofy, coiffed wig.
As I walked in today to see my aunt, I saw the wig. I heard of the demand to know when my aunt could travel. Like a calm hand, the care giver steered me away from my aunt to the back of the house toward her husband. He set a table for me alone and served me Romanian beans and pickled veggies and some Tuica…a fermented beverage known by various spellings, but one taste.
After that hardy dinner and hearing impressive tales of how the family arrived to this country, I stepped out to visit with my aunt. There she sat waiting to visit. Intuitively, she sensed how I felt about that damn wig. I hated them on my mom, I hated them on my aunt, and I sat there pissed off at the meddlesome sister that brought a goofy, damn wig and stuck it on my aunt. But, I sat and waltzed around it. I didn’t comment about it. My aunt wanted to leave that instant to go home to check on her mother.
Can I say this. When my aunt said that, I felt a rage that was so intense I could have crushed stone. Not a rage at my dear aunt. But, the meddlesome sister that came in and made her look like some clown and then left. Planting seeds again about leaving.
Perhaps the Tuica? Perhaps a too long of a day? Perhaps dipshits that walk in and stir the stability, such as it is, and then drive away content they made some damn difference? I don’t know tonight.
Maybe I will sleep on it and tomorrow I will awaken, shrug and go ‘who gives a shit?’
On a different channel: my mom’s house was listed today, not tomorrow. At the end of the day 6 people toured the house and multiple offers were made with deadlines. That is good. That is great. Why can’t I get that damn wig out of my mind? I know, I know. It really doesn’t matter.