Greetings, chumps!
Today was busy. Mutha Fucka demanded that she sleep downstairs due to dying from heart failure. She can no longer endure the SOB (or shortness of breath). The medicines help to keep her alive.
As a result and after breakfast and while Mom cleaned up and cooked lunch, I proceeded to move the clothes between Dad’s walk-in closet and Mom’s closet upstairs. The vertical dresser drawers and closets accommodated appropriately both volume of clothes.
Dad was barely useful in light vacuuming and helpful in moving three sets of mattress – two heavy-ass TempurPedic and one regular. We left black rubber scratch markings on the white walls of the stairways with the motor box.
All I remember was the rather pain free chore due to wearing the left wrist brace and black girdle and to ingesting “baby aspirin” within the first few minutes of experiencing symptoms of high blood pressure. I could hear my heart beat inside my right ear hole. I took another pill during a late lunch at around 1430.
Mom helped iron laundry from two weeks ago, while Dad and I wrapped things up. We got the recent higher water bill and plan to use less water by not washing frequently.
I also managed to scan two sets of old photos and one set of negative. I set the Image Adjustment to the “DIGITAL ICE” technology for the negatives from the sixties through the seventies due to scratches and dust.
I’m hesitant to throw OLD photos and negatives. But I must let go of the past, since neither Das Squirrel nor I will pass on our memories or troubled, yet intelligent genetics. We’re both past our prime for birthing retards, by the way.
I was looking for negative sheets to store these memories as further backup. I wonder if the NSA and data center pals are archiving my memories in cyberspace. I’d HATE for my hard work to go lost, stolen, and forgotten.
Yeah, so, I don’t mind material memories as gifts but those are temporary and have been either donated or discarded.
Tonight, I’ll try Dad’s adjustable bed, which was my original intention and unfortunately something that he didn’t use due to breathing difficulties and simply not being used to change.
After three decades, he will no longer sleep downstairs. His new accommodation is cozy. I hope he’ll fair well, while I suffer sleeping next to the swollen one and monitor her in case of emergency.
Taking care of the sick and dying sucks. Be prepared for pissed off energy signatures when my whole world crashing down.
With crashing tiredness,
Evil Kitty
Posted from WordPress for Android via SM-G860P
Leave a Reply