So much drama in the past week, y'all, but I don't want to scare you off. 'Cause I know you come here for the laughs and the Jedi Master-like wisdom that I throw out on occasion.
Two funny things happened today. Nature Boy and I took a Mental Health Day and spent the afternoon at the river. I must gush here and tell you that my precious boy spent most of this time rescuing minnows who were caught in the river-equivalent of a tide pool. He ran back and forth with handfuls of little fish, taking them from a dried-up puddle to the river. It was sweet. I am so proud.
(Then he stepped on a sticker plant on the way back and was all, "And THIS is my reward for helping those fish!?!?" He's like his mama. More about the animals than the plants. And with a flair for the dramatic.)
While Nature Boy was busy with his task, I sat on a quiet, peaceful little peninsula with my magazine--my magazine and a skinny, bearded old guy taking a nap on his laptop bag. At first I thought he was an IT guy on his lunch break. This assumption was disproven when the guy suddenly jumped to his feet and yelled, "MY B@ll$ ITCH LIKE A MUTHA%$#*$&!" (Fortunately, he was well out of Nature Boy's hearing). The guy continued with a stream of curses directed at all manner of people, none of whom were actually there. Then he returned to his nap.
I'm not saying there aren't some crazy IT guys out there (Shrinky Dink's ex comes to mind), but it was pretty obvious at second glance that this guy was homeless. And psychotic. So what do you think I did next?
I just went back to reading my magazine. (I mean, it's not like he was talking to me.)
About 20 minutes later, the guy stood up again and repeated his tirade. And once again I continued reading. Finally, the shade was gone from his sleeping spot, so he left.
(If this would've happened in my 'hood, or if kids had been nearby, I might have called the police. But we were near downtown. Therefore, I was practically in this guy's backyard. And as I've mentioned before, I have a fairly big tolerance for crazy folk.)
The second funny thing that happened today was, of course, a conversation with my grandma. She informed me last night that she is not. going. anywhere. without. her. cat. Therefore, that awesome place I found for her is out. They don't accept pets. And it was really the only non-nursing home option I could find that was affordable. So she is considering going to live with her eldest son in Louisiana.
And I find that I am conflicted about this.
It's been difficult to be a caregiver again (my grandma lived with us for a year after my grandpa died in 2008)--but I don't want her to move away from me, to another state, at the end of her life. I want to be there for her. I just can't do it ALL. And according to her hospice nurse, I can't do it where she currently lives. (Her cat rules out moving in with us again because Tree Guy is allergic to cats.)
Here is my attempt at trying to persuade her to move into the place I found for her:
Me: Meemaw, I know you don't want to give up your cat. You've had so many losses. I really do understand. But you've only had this cat for a month, and this is the only place around here that I could find. If you move in with your son, you'll be moving away from me. If you move to this place I found, you'd have to give up your cat, but you'd still have me around. That's worth something, right?
Meemaw: (Long pause....) Well, I really do love my cat...
LOL! Well, that was an epic fail.