The Mysteries of Plastic Bags

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My week didn’t go so well. Ever had those bad kind of weeks that never seem to end? I did figure out, very quickly, I was working too many hours and it was affecting the quality of my work, thoughts, patience, driving, judgement etc. A case in point. Yesterday I forgot a client I see Friday mornings. Oops!

How automatic garage doors are supposed to look without cars stuck in them

My car was in the shop and I borrowed my friends cute little Prius while she was out of town. I am backing out of her garage when I hear a THUNK. I look in the rear view mirror and see half the automatic garage door in my sites. Because of the roof lines on the cute little Prius I couldn’t have seen the door coming down even if I had wanted to (and I did) so I am not sure I could have stopped it. I am still trying to figure out how it happened. Like it matters now. I just don’t want to be seen as the dope who gets her car stuck in an automatic garage door. Too late.

What a normal garage looks like when a car is parked inside, with an automatic garage door.

So now, not only have I forgotten a client, but I may have permanently screwed up my friends garage door, on a house she rents, from a very picky land lord. Great. But her dog is doing great!

The kind of garage door I remodeled.

Thankfully there was no damage to her car. Just me…emotionally. It was a wake up call that I am heeding loud and clear. I am behind on my class work so I lessened my available hours this past Wednesday, but it doesn’t start until next week. I realized all the extra time I am spending in the car driving from one address to another, in heavy traffic is adding to my mental fatigue. That’s what I am calling it. No snickers please.

Two of my clients are in their nineties and they can’t hear well. I find myself speaking loudly a lot now. I am talking to myself more too. They tell me how to do everything. And I mean everything!  How to fold things, how to say things to them, how to clean things, how to do laundry, how to change sheets, how to make a bed, how to spell. Yep. They even tell me how to spell. I try not to laugh, but sometimes I have to tell myself how lucky I am to have survived as long as I have without their directions. When one was telling me how to empty a basin of water in the sink I looked at her, and said very loudly…”did you know I birthed two kids and raised them to adulthood”? She didn’t get it, or she didn’t hear me. It’s kind of cute that they think I am young and helpless.

I know it’s because everyone is bossing them around (their own children) and telling them what to do, so they are passing it on. It’s o.k. most of the time. I understand. Today I got a serious lecture on why I shouldn’t put wet wipes in a plastic garbage bag. It could seep and they might get in trouble for throwing it down the garbage shute. If it were my family I would most probably look at them (with a hand on my hip) and say “Are you serious??!!” But instead I quietly try and explain why the plastic bag won’t seep (because the damn wipes are already dried up) because it’s in plastic,and how would they know they were your wet wipes?! Then I ask them why they are  going through the garbage?! Then I remember they can’t hear me. That has it’s advantages. I usually just do what I want, they can’t follow me in their walkers. I feel like they have eyes everywhere though. It’s kind of creepy. It’s like they know you might try and scam their plastic bags.

Next time I better bring my own plastic bag. They keep track, so they can reuse them, over, and over, and over. I know it is a good thing to recyle plastic…or not use it. This is recycling at it’s most annoying. When they ask me if I brought the tattered Wal Mart bag back from the recycling bin (picture a deer caught in the head lights) I always say yes now. Hope they don’t start counting them.

My favorite ninety year old and I went out to lunch for Mexican food after her doctor’s appointment and I felt sorry for the waitress who got very detailed instructions on how to properly heat her coffee up before delivering it. She explained to the waitress that they don’t know what a hot cup of coffee is in Colorado. Evidently they only know in California, where she is from. Then she grilled ( no pun intended) her on how their chile relleno’s were made and was the family that owned the restaurant really Mexican ( I already had told her they weren’t) and did she know that the only real authentic Mexican food was in Texas? I just smiled very big at the waitress. Thankfully they were the best relleno’s she’d ever had. Put that in your pipe and smoke it Texas! And I made sure the waitress got a good tip, seniors above 80 tend to tip like it was 1948.

I honestly like these people, and really enjoy them (when I am not mentally fatigued), but I can’t help but think this would make a great reality show. They have no idea how predictable they are and how entertaining and refreshing they can be. Is it the era they came from? ( and not all 90 year old’s are like this, I know) Will we all end up in some version of here? Better start saving plastic bags.

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5 responses »

  1. Growing old is not for the faint hearted. I am practicisng now not to tell people how to do things. Hopefully I will get the hang of it!!!

    “Youth is a wonderful thing. What a crime to waste it on children.” ~George Bernard Shaw

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