I am related by marriage to a family that is composed of The Other Guy (my now-deceased spouse) his Deadbeat Older Sister, his Deadbeat Younger Sister, and his mother, who I honestly refer to as the Demented Old Bitch. For years, I cared for DOB who lived in my master bedroom and whose contribution to the household included several loads of wash a week for me to do, and an olfactory overload of unwashed incontinence. By the time she finally fell for the 408th time and we had to call for "lift assist" I had managed to navigate the state's welfare system and get her on assistance so that she was moved to a skilled (sic) nursing facility from which I simply refused to bring her home.
Two weeks after DOB was moved out, it became apparent that: a) TOG would not lift a finger to clean out her shit so we could move out of the guest room; b) among her hoarded treasures was a large decaying cardboard carton filled with every greeting card she had ever received; and c) TOG now expected me to be his full time caregiver, cook, laundress, housekeeper with benefits. It took me another 2 years to move him into assisted living, by which time my heart condition had deteriorated to the point where I end up in the ER about twice a year, where they keep me overnight for observation, and to infect me with the latest flu.
It's a wonder I'm not bitter.
I am a certified Post-Structuralist Change Manager and Life Coach. I am somewhat less angry than most psycho bitches from So Cal but probably considerably more paranoid. I am the winner of the coveted American Society of Scrapbookers, Hookers, and Artistic Tradespersons 2013 Award for Best Management of Psychosis Through Quilting. I am an officious intermeddler, living the American dream of mediocrity amid vapidity. I also have an Honorary Doctor of Createalytics from the Learning Annex. Which is ironic because I used to operate a blog: What I Said in My Head, but I lost the password and I’m too technically challenged to get back in.
The only thing sadder than that is that I still say stuff in my head, particularly when I feel like Shaggy driving the van.
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