Grandpa has taught me my new favorite phrase, "writing on the wall." We've been having these ten minute long conversations about how homesick I am and how my friends/boyfriend are doing stuff that makes me feel like a ghost. This is when Grandpa smiles and offers his only wisdom that may stick with me, "writing on the wall". For those who don't have interest in the melodrama of a socialite turned homebody, this is a record of how lucid Grandpa can be at the end of the day by having a semi-real conversation with him. The mornings are much worse because it's still, "What is your plan? How long are you staying? Did you know we built/planted everything on this lot? Is my daughter/Bill coming down, do you know? Jeez, someone needs to trim those trees." Then the conversation starts all over again. I'm not saying he doesn't act like a jerk 80% of the time anymore. Just today I went to get groceries after volunteering, and a monsoon started while I was in Publix. It was the type of rain that you have to pull over your car because your windshield wipers can't keep up when your going 15 miles per hour when they're at top speed. When I got home and was bringing the last bit in, completely sopping from head to toe, Grandpa was sitting in the kitchen glaring at me--not lifting a finger to help--just glaring. "What's wrong?" I ask. "What is this?" "Groceries... for us to eat..." "ooookkk." I tell him that the proper response is "thank you," thank you, thank you, thank you. I'm stupidly trying to get him to realize that snapping at someone isn't a proper response to thoughtful actions from others, we are working on this, although usually Carol makes up for it. He spends the entire time I'm putting away groceries asking me if I left any food there, talking about how wonderful the storm is. "Have you been out today?" (I'm still sopping wet) and asking me to hand him things as I take them out. Yesterday I was beginning to think that Grandpa was doing loads better, but then he put a dirty pan away in the oven (mad/embarrassed/flustered: "I thought you might need it again soon.") and when I left at 10pm last night, the garage was open, the lights were on, and he was in there in JUST HIS BOXERS looking for his keys. I asked, "you usually keep them in your pants, did you leave them in a pair of pants?" "I checked!" he snaps. "OK, well I can help you look for them tomorrow, but it's late at night, and you don't need them right now." He seemed satisfied with this answer, and today he obviously had his keys because they went to get groceries, yea, while I was volunteering and before I got groceries they got some. I swear.
As far as Carol goes, she is on top of her game. Hasn't come crying to me, but I've been gone a lot, and taking her medicine by herself. In fact, she's great at documenting it too. She'll leave the empty package with the old patch stuck to it with the date and time, so I can see that she did. I'm completely shocked.
Sorry I haven't been writing a lot lately. I've found if I'm forced to be in front of a computer for 8 hours a day, you tend to want a break.
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