My Messed-up Monday

Yesterday was the day from hell. Lots of those lately. Actually, it was just a continuation of the weekend from hell. Quick rundown. Of Monday. Not enough time to tell about the weekend. Maybe later.

First mistake. Started my day composing long letter to funeral home. Let's just say the whole visitation/funeral/grave thing for mother was a cluster-fuck. Seriously, they put another dead person's name under mother's picture in the program. It didn't help that his name was Larry Wayne Hicks. Then they put my mother's marker in the wrong place and The Daddler thought they had buried some "black boy" in her grave. Sorry about the racial thing, but The D is a 79 year old Southerner. Believe me, he's not as bad as he could be - I nipped the N word in the bud when my kiddo was little. Threatened to not let The D see kiddo - it worked. Let's be clear. I love black people. I mean African Americans. And Asians, Jews, Muslims and Indians - both kinds. Oops, I mean Native Americans. I love people of every race and religion. Except Baptists. I can say that because I used to be one. And I'm not particularly fond of religions which think they are the only way - like Church of Christ, Jehovah's Witness (what happens when the 144,000 spots get filled?), or haters of any kind. But I digress. Back to the letter. I tried to get the right mix of forlorn, loving daughter and tough business woman on the verge of suing their asses off if they didn't refund the 12 bazillion dollars we paid for the stupid thing. Needless to say, that exercise contributed to my funk.

Cried in the shower. Then got a call from Shernitra, the home health companion who's saved my life and is happy to cook for The D and do dishes, laundry and anything else I need and hate to do. She even puts my underwear away. I feel like a spoiled princess every time I open my underwear drawer and there are actually clean underwear there. Now I almost never have to get them off the floor or out of the dirty clothes when I'm getting dressed.

Back to phone call. Shernitra was very depressed and overwhelmed. After four whole days of being out (stupid snow Thursday and Friday, then the stupid weekend), I was desperate. She told me she was just going to drop her classes and start back in the summer. I didn't hear right and thought she said she would just drive her car off the bridge on Summer Avenue. I was relieved when I realized she wasn't contemplating suicide. But irritated that she wasn't going to work that day. Told her not to worry and to take care of herself instead of channeling Leona Helmsley.

I answered some client emails. One of them asked me to fix the balance sheet I'd screwed up and I emailed back that I already had and I looked back to resend the corrected balance sheet and realized that I'd sent it before I got the email from him asking me to fix it. So I quickly emailed him again and said I hadn't fixed it but would take care of it in the next hour or two. While I was making lunch for The D, I got an email on my phone and it was from me. Then I realized I'd sent the second email to myself - client's name starts with a C, too, dammit. But he'd already sent an email telling me it wasn't right. So I emailed back (this time to him, not myself), and felt like an idiot.

Next, The D didn't eat his lunch. I asked him if he didn't like it and he said he wasn't hungry because he hadn't pooped in three days. He started rummaging around in the countless bottles of fiber and laxatives my mother had accumulated for him. He came up with a bottle of something that people take before colonoscopies (I'd gotten it for him before in desperation after his doctor's incompetent nurse suggested it, and it did the trick). I contemplated calling the bitchy nurse, but just wasn't up for it. I mixed up the fiber/lax combo with OJ and gave it to him. I think he's become dependent on laxatives so I didn't want him to take the heavy duty stuff. See where the toddler element comes in? Remember when you had extreme interest in your baby's poop record?

So I went to the client's office, fixed the balance sheet, dropped something off at another client's office and forgot to make my bank deposit. I think I'll be ok but I'm a little afraid to check my balance online. I'll try to remember the deposit today.

After that, I went to the pharmacy to pick up his dementia medicine, and asked if they had cole slaw and they didn't. I was planning to heat up frozen Corky's BBQ for his dinner that night and had to have cole slaw. Then I went to the liquor store to get Vella Burgundy in the box. He drinks a glass every night and I'd noticed the empty box on the kitchen floor. He never tells me when he's running low on coffee, wine, prunes... I went to an upscale liquor store and was embarrassed to ask for the cheap wine, so I told them I needed it for The D and that I was a beer girl (they didn't care). They didn't have Vella boxes at all. I headed to another liquor store (which happened to be next to a grocery store which happened to have cole slaw). They had Vella boxes but only merlot and cab - not burgundy. I asked which was closer to burgundy and the guy explained that Vella was not actually french burgundy but a blend. Wow, I'd never have guessed that. Didn't give a flying fuck. I made my speech about just needing it for The D and he didn't like things to be different but that I didn't want to keep going to liquor stores but I didn't want him to get mad at me. Dude suggested the merlot. That night, I fessed up and told The D it wasn't the same and after he and I struggled to get the spout out of the box. He tried it and said "Shew, this is strong". But he drank it.

I told him I was going to make BBQ with cole slaw, and he said he didn't want it because he hadn't gone to the bathroom. Then he said if he didn't poop soon, he would have to go to the hospital. I asked him if he needed an enema, with no idea whether my mother used to help him. Where can you find someone to help with an enema? It's not in Shernitra's job description and I sure as hell am not going to squirt something up The D's butt. So I just started worrying about a hospital stay and how it would cramp my schedule.

I tried to get him to drink a beer (it always works for me), but he refused. I cut up some celery, carrots and red bell pepper with ranch dressing and took it to him. He ate it. I drank the beer.

I sat down to watch tv. I have the attention span of a fruit fly so I texted my friend Donna. Me: "Missing mother. Daddy's constipated & mad at me for fucking up his pill box" Donna: "Out for dinner w/ client - just shot tea out of my nose" Me: "Better than beer - it foams"

I left out the pill box snafu. I guess I got confused when I did my weekly loading since I didn't have all the refills. He came into the den and shook the pill box in my face. I realized there were only 2 pills in the Monday p.m. compartment instead of eleven. And two in Sunday p.m. Me: "Daddy, did you forget these last night?" The D: "No, didn't take them - they were wrong"

Shit, he missed his blood pressure and blood thinner meds. Recipe for a stroke or heart attack. Especially with the constipation - I figure your blood pressure goes up when you strain. After all, Elvis died of a heart attack on the toilet. Narcotics constipated him. I spent 30 minutes fixing the pill box, including adding the dementia med I'd picked up that day. I double checked them and gave them to him. He questioned each pill and I explained each pill. Dammit. Oh, forgot the part at the drugstore where they charged me $189 for the pills instead of $3. She had to call a manager to void the transaction. He took forever. Glad I noticed - I usually don't look at the total. Should probably do that. The clerk wouldn't give me the two receipts, just the last one. I told her if the big charge showed up on my statement, I would come back and cut her throat. Luckily she got my sick sense of humor and didn't call the po-po. Also, I realized my doc hadn't mailed my adderall prescription this month. Gotta call for that. Thank god I'm not out of those. You have to have the paper scrip for that one, so I'll have to drive to Cordova, then back to the drugstore. Maybe I'll notice my bank on the way and remember my deposit.

So much for my quick rundown. Maybe tonight I'll be able to report cash in the bank, a big settlement from the funeral home, a supply of adderall in my medicine cabinet, and most importantly, a successful poop for The Daddler!