A couple of weeks ago something ate a 2" hole in a papaya ripening in the dining room. Mother insisted it was the house gecko. A few days later something ate through a plastic bread bag and ate about a 1" hole in a loaf of Portuguese Sweet Bread. "Surely," said Mother, "a mouse would need a bigger hole than that! It must be the gecko." On Sunday morning she caught sight of Mr. Mystery, trying to escape out the front door. Mr. Mystery is not a gecko. He is a rat.
Off to Long's we went for a rat trap -- the traditional wooden platform with a metal spring. Mr. Rat turned his nose up at the potato chip on Sunday night. Last night he ate the papaya, sprung the trap, and left. This morning while vaccuuming I found rat droppings and chewed up carpet behind my father's chair. Back to Long's, this time for an environmentally correct sticky trap. Rat is supposed to get his feet stuck in the glue. Just what I need before breakfast. A live, unhappy rat that needs to find a new home outdoors. If that fails, we go for the big guns -- poison bait.
We had an appointment at my mother's preferred residential facility for next Monday. No can do. It's yard man day, and she works with him in the yard while he is here. Can't do the following Monday, Daddy has a doctor's appointment. And their part-time helper starts that day. She doesn't want to do it at all. Now she thinks maybe she wants something in town since their doctors are all in town. Never mind that their primary care physician says he has patients at Pohai Nani and would probably see them there. She says, "We shouldn't be do the assessment now, anyway. If we don't go for six months, everything will have changed." I opined that they should just do it and get it over with, they can always say "No, thank you." if they decide to do something else. She figuratively threw up her hands, and literally said, clearly exasperated, "Well, do what you want to do."
Today I am in disfavor. Breakfast was OK. She spent most of the morning at the ironing board. For lunch she mixed up some chicken and mayonnaise, but announced that she couldn't stand up any longer. If anyone wanted a sandwich they would have to make it themselves. The only thing on the dinner menu that I considered edible was the salad. I had been warned in advance about the beets, so bought myself some peas -- which she has served once in the last year. She put peppers on her's and Daddy's fish, but none on mine, thank goodness. Had to make up some tartar sauce -- the fish had been too long in the freezer. She is unhappy that we are pushing this residential care assessment . She is unhappy that Ian has ordered a new, fancy walker for our dad. She says, "I don't know why he needs a walker that he can't open and can't lift. How much is it going to cost?" Conveniently, I didn't order it. Even if I had, I would not have asked the cost. If it's a needed piece of durable medical equipment, I just buy and figure out later how to pay the bill. In this case, I think insurace pays the bill. She is unhappy that her hip hurts.
Ray adored my mother. But when I got in moods like this he used to say, "You're sounding just like your mother!" That was usually enough to get me headed in a more pleasant direction.
Look for the silver lining. Give thanks. Keep praying!!