It Happened Again

It happened to me again--confronted with bad manners by and older person who think her time is more valuable than mine or that they are entitled.

When I walked into the pharmacy, there was a gentleman at the drop-off window discussing his medication with the pharmacist. I waited. . .and waited. . .and waited. I was patient because I realize that such discussions can be important. I must have waited for a little less than 10 minutes. After the discussion was finsished, the techs and the pharmacist had to solve a little problem which took another minute or two. Again, I waited.

In the meantime, a lady about my age who seemed to have no phyical impairment walked up behind me and said, "Are you in line?" "Yes," I answered. She said, "I'm dropping off a prescription. Can I go in front of you?" I said, "I'm just dropping one off, too." Just as I said that, I heard "Next" and I stepped up to the window.

Why did she think she should have the right to ask to go to the front of the line? She had a grocery cart that was empty so I'm assuming that she had other shopping to do.

After I took care of my business, I wondered what I would have done if I hadn't been summoned. Would I have knuckled under and let her go in front of me? Would I have politely explained that I had been waiting for a long time and I would only take a few minutes? Or would have I been as uncivil as she was and told her to stick it? I know I that I wouldn't have chosen the last one. I am seldom rude and I try to be accommodating. But people who for some reason are so presumptuous make be very angry.

Levi at Disney

“I’m scared of that mouse!”

A New Project

When Mr. Fixit was away on vacation (he’s back, by the way), I had a little scare.

The shower in the upstairs bath is not separate from the tub; it’s in the tub. As I started to step out, one foot was in the tub on the mat and the other foot hadn’t hit the floor yet. The mat slipped and I almost fell. The hamper saved my bacon. I escaped with a little banged up shin.

Afterwards, I realized that it could have been a bad situation. What if I had broken something and wasn’t able to get up? I could have lain there for days. There is no place that I have to be a certain time, so no one would miss me. No one calls with any regularity.

Weird thoughts started going through my mind. I remembered an episode of “CSI” about a little old cat lady who died, and her cats ate her. One CSI person said, “To a hungry cat, meat is meat.” I love Little Girl, but I don’t want to be cat food.

Even if I didn’t croak, I would be mortified if by some chance someone called our local paramedics and they found me sans clothing sprawled half in and half out of the bath tub. It doesn’t bear thinking about. When I die, I plan to be fully clothed. I would prefer to have make-up on; it’s not a deal breaker if I don’t, but it would be nice if I did.

When I told Mr. Fixit about my near brush with becoming noms for Little Girl, I told him that I want to start using the downstairs bath to take showers because it has a shower stall. There is little danger when stepping down only two inches or so. He seemed to think it was good idea until I said that I would like to freshen the room up a bit. The last time I decided to “freshen up” the upstairs bathroom my budget (according to him) rivaled the national debt. When you paint the walls, the molding looks dreary. The new paint color means new accessories. The new accessories call for new drawer pulls, etc., etc., etc.

It shouldn’t be that bad this time. I bought fabric for a new curtain, a new mirror, and I found a pretty shower curtain. Of course, I will need new towels and a new hamper.

While we were in Lowe’s shopping he was looking at shower heads, I asked him if I could take the one from the upstairs to put it in the downstairs bath. We had a major disagreement when Mr. Fixit tried several different so called “water saving” shower heads before. I hate them! I want to be able to sluice off the shampoo and soap quickly and not have to stand there for ten minutes while the water sprays down on me like “a gentle rain.” My motto is, “Get in; get it done, get out.”

Since we don’t have to paint, buy a new light fixture, or new drawer/door pulls, I should be able to come in under budget--although we could use new flooring.  I’d better not mention that. He may tell me it would be cheaper for me to have one of those “I’ve fallen and I can’t get up” gadgets.

45 Years of Night & Day and Black & White

Mr. Fixit and I have been married for over 45 years. Sometime I wonder how we’ve made it this far. We are as different as chalk and cheese.

 He is less spontaneous than I. He likes to have every moment planned. When we go on our little explorations, he wants to know exactly where we are going. I like to see where the road leads. When it’s a planned trip, he has two TomToms on, stacks of routes planned by Mapquest, individual state road maps, and the road atlas that is always in the car. I look at the map to get a general idea of the route I want to follow and let the big green highway signs direct me.

He is more self-centered that I am. I don’t mean that in a mean way. It’s just that he give little thought to the way his actions may affect others. He thinks that everything I feel and do has something to do with him.

When something needs to be repaired, he thinks and thinks and thinks, while I want to think a little and then start doing something. Meanwhile, he’s still thinking. When he does start the repair, he is able to fix almost anything (well, plumbing is not his favorite thing). The problem is he doesn’t care what the result looks like; he cares only that the result is successful. Me? I want it to work, but I also want it to look nice.

He thinks I’m not logical. He may be right. When I have a problem to solve, I start at the end and work my way back to the beginning. When I was a child, I loved those maze puzzles. I was a whiz at them. I always started at the end point and worked my way back to the starting point. When he asks me for suggestions when he has a job to do, I always ask first what the objective is. Then I work backwards.

I think he is too influenced by other people. He finds it impossible to say “No” even though he doesn’t really want to do what’s asked of him. He doesn’t seem to realize he being manipulated, or maybe he doesn’t care. I hate being manipulated. It make me angry, and I very seldom allow it to happen. I dig in my heels and do the opposite of whatever the person who is trying to manipulate wants. I can’t understand why people can’t be straight forward and say what’s on their minds. If someone wants me to do something, say so. Don’t manipulate. It makes me angry that anyone would think I’m so stupid that I don’t see what’s happening.

He is more forgiving than I am. Even when I do forgive real or imagined slights, I remember. I remember for a long time and I never put myself in the position to be hurt again. Sometimes I know that it’s cutting off my nose. . .but that’s they way I protect myself.

Even thought we are so different, for the last few years we have both noticed that we have a lot of “Twilight Zone” moments. You know, when we both say exactly the same thing at the same time. This happens a lot in the car. Or sometimes when I’m upstairs and he’s downstairs, we meet on the steps and we both say we need to go shopping, or we want to go for a drive, or we both have a craving for ice cream. It gets really spooky sometimes.

When I talked to him last, he said he was coming home Saturday. I’m glad.

Here But Not Here

Mr. Fixit is back in the US, but he isn’t home. He’s in Memphis. He had to cut his vacation short. His sister who lives in Memphis went with him on the trip. She received word that a member of her family found out that she has a major medical problem. She asked Mr. Fixit if he would accompany her home. Her daughter had a doctor’s appointment Tuesday, and they thought maybe Mr. Fixit could help translate so they would understand the situation as clearly as possible.

The doctor should have the information he needs from some additional testing by Thursday, and then decisions will have to made.

Mr. Fixit said he wants to come home Friday, but I don’t know if he will be able to get reservations at this late date. Friday is a travel day for business travelers. I don’t know either if he can get a direct flight from Memphis to Greenville. I hope so. If not, I know there are lots of flights from Memphis to Atlanta. If he comes into Atlanta, I hope he waits until Saturday or Sunday because of traffic in the city on weekdays.

Yesteryear

On Sundays, Mr. Peter Tibbles is the guest contributor at “Time Goes By.” He offers samples of many different genres of music. Today’s theme was music of 1952.

As I played through his list, I knew the lyrics of all the songs but two. Of the songs I didn’t know, one was an early rock ‘n’ roll song by Lloyd Price and the other song was by Hank Williams. When I was a teen I was a fan of Mr. Price’s music, but in 1952 rock ‘n’ roll wasn’t mainstream so I didn’t hear much of the early stuff. Even though my mother listened to country music (we called it hillbilly music) I didn’t care for it and didn’t pay much attention to it.

In 1952 I was a 7 year old second grader. I wondered why I knew the lyrics of the songs. By then we had a television and we didn’t listen to the radio much any longer. Then it hit me—“Your Hit Parade.”

“Your Hit Parade” came on Saturday nights and counted down the top seven (I think) songs of the week plus two “extras.” We would always guess which song would be No. 1 and who would sing it.

I suppose I learned the lyrics from Dorothy, Gisele, Russell, and Snooky. I found this site (http://www.archive.org/details/Your_Hit_Parade_Complete_Episode) with a kinoscope of a whole show. It brought back memories of my dad, mother, and my older brother as well as some great music. Take a peek if you’re into nostalgia.

(It’s no wonder I smoked. Those Lucky Strike commercials were very seductive. LS/MFT. And I wonder if Snooky Lanson was the model for the Howdy Doody puppet.)

This and That

The last week or so has been a little tough. My glucose levels have been higher than they have ever been before, and nothing I try seems to help.

It started last month when I complained to the doctor about a side effect of one of my medicines. He suggested that I cut the dosage in half. I only cut it by a third though, and there seemed to be no problem except the side effect was still a problem.

Granted, since Mr. Fixit has been gone, I haven’t been eating like I should, but it’s not like I have been o.d.ing on carbs. It’s just that I have not been cooking much. It’s hard cooking for one.

I’ve resumed the previous dosage, but the levels are still twice as high has they should be. Maybe it takes a few days to kick in; I don’t know. There’s not much I can do about it.

************************

I went to Levi’s football game last night. He almost made a touchdown. Those little legs were pumping like pistons! He was with a foot or two of the goal line. Before the game, he told him mom that he didn’t really know what to do. I guess he understood enough to run toward the goal line when he caught the ball.

They Won!

Levi had his first flag football game to day. He plays in the age seven and under group. He’s only 5. He was so excited. He came off the field after the game with a little lump on his forehead and a bruise on his cheek.
This grammie does not like to watch games in which her grandchildren get bruised but he is probably proud of the bruise.

On the Road Paved with Good Intentions

Since my short term memory isn’t as dependable as it once was, I have become a list maker.

This is this morning’s to-d0 list:

This is the list that I will actually accomplish:

I’m Sorry; I Don’t Speak . . .

I never thought I would say this, but a call from a telemarketer might be welcome about now. I haven’t talked to anyone since last Wednesday, unless you count Little Girl and the other cats. They are good listeners, but they leave a bit to be desired in the conversation department. They do meow at me when I talk to them sometimes, but, sadly, I don’t understand Felinese.

She’s back!

Mother Cat came back this evening about 7:30. I stepped out for a little fresh air and there she was sitting on the deck railing where she usually sits. I was so happy to see her. I thought she would be very hungry, but she came in had a few bits of dry food and left. I guess she had dinner out with friends.

All day long I called her, “Moo-therr! Here kitty, kitty” in my cat calling falsetto voice. I must have driven the neighbors nuts. I know now that she was probably sitting in the bushes laughing her kitty tee-hees, her whole body shaking with almost silent laughter while I was so worried about her.

She is such a little @#$%$, but I’m so happy she’s home.

(The photo is not her, but I bet this was the expression on her face.)

Time and News

So-o-o? What does a person do when they have no demands on their time? For this person, it’s a whole lot of nuthin’.

Mr. Fixit has been gone since Monday, and here it is Friday. My time has been taken up with computer games, reading, and little else. I have been out once to the grocery.

Even though I don’t want to go anywhere, I have this restlessness at my edges. It’s getting to me a little. I think maybe it’s the weather and the fact that I don’t like going out alone.

This morning Mother Cat didn’t show up for breakfast. She seldom misses breakfast. I’m a little worried about her. I called and called but she hasn’t appeared. She looks as if she is in good shape even though she must be at least nine years old. That’s very old for a feral cat. The vet told me that the lifespan of the average feral cat is about two years. I hope she isn’t trapped somewhere.

And in the news, our state legislature is considering a bill that would not require South Carolinians to use the new light bulbs that will be mandated by the Feds soon. The reason is not what you may think. No one seems to be concerned about the mercury in them. No, it seems that the light bulb problem is a matter of states’ rights. “Nobody is going to tell us what kind of light bulbs to use!” Hmmm. That the same reason that was used for The War Between the States. Slavery wasn’t the problem; South Carolina just didn’t want the Federal Government “pokin’ its nose in where it didn’t belong.” There are so many problems in this state and they are discussing light bulbs. Now I know why we are in dire straits.

I’m angry with the Houston Chronicle. For years, my morning routine has included working their crossword puzzle. Now not only have they eliminated “Fred Bassett” from their comics page, but now they no longer offer the crossword. Washington Post here I come. Houston, your nutsy political scene isn’t enough to keep me as a reader. Well, there is “Dear Abby.”

I’m not too thrilled with my Yahoo! home page either. They have removed their TV listings service. Even though I have a guide on the television and access to the Directv guide, I like having the mini-guide on my home page. It’s so handy.

I hate change! Can you tell I’m a little edgy?