I can say this over and over again, but it's hard to figure out when to let Grandpop just say what it is he has to say, and when it's worth your time to tell him he's completely wrong.
For instance; last night it was sleeting and Mike came over to help me move this sofa that I had found in the trash (that's another story)out of the van and onto the porch. So it's obviously not ideal traveling conditions but Mike is still going home from Wilmo to Newark none-the-less, and I decide to ride with him to his apartment. Grandpop has no idea what he's talking about, as usual, and says that we're just asking to get killed as we drive on the roads because, as he says, "there are over 2 inches of snow on all of the roads in New Castle county." First of all, the roads were bad, but with a very thin sheet of ice, and what's the point in arguing with someone who truly believes what their delusional mind randomly spurts out on a regular basis?
For instance this morning around 11.30 Grandpop said that there were a few inches of sleet on the ground, as he could see it falling all morning. When Aunt Liz and I informed him that it was 41 degrees and what he was seeing was rain, he merely laughed at us- because, obviously, we we're the crazy people.
And what is it with him that drives him to be this extreme pessimist?
Every time I come or go I ask, "How's it going?" and his usual response is, "Improving." Well, after a few months of "improving," wouldn't you think that he's pretty damn super by now? He never says, "I'm ok," or "Not too bad." I mean he's seriously like the Debbie Downer of the 1920's generation.
I found this really nice porch furniture couch the other day down the street and I loaded it into his van to bring it home. The next day he kept asking me and Grandmom things like, "What's wrong with the sofa if someone is throwing it away? It must be filled with disease and feces."
Of course, this is the man who has trash-picked his whole life- but as long as he's doing it, there can be no harm done. I mean seriously though, this was obviously just some person who got sick of their porch furniture and put it on the curb. This is Sharpley, not the fucking Red Light district. There were no cum stains or lingering urine odors, but he just had to be negative about someone as benign as finding something free in the trash.
But on to other subjects.
Because Grandpop is completely unable to do literally anything on his own, without being a major pain in the ass, life can be unbearable when you're around him and he's supposed to complete some menial task. For instance; the other day Grandmom told him to make himself a sandwich, which he rarely ever does. After opening nearly every drawer and cabinet looking for a plate and the bread he finally began making his ham and swiss sandwich. Now this is the man who watches me with the eyes of a hawk when I'm making a sandwich and whistles, out loud, at me when I put more than 3 slices of ham on a sandwich. So on his sandwich he puts literally, an inch of ham followed by an inch of swiss cheese. This sandwich was so big that had he been charged by the pound for that meat and cheese at the deli counter, that would have been a $5 sandwich. After eating half of it he had to take a fork and knife to the other half because it was so massive.
When dinner came that night he was asked to put out napkins for everyone and proceeded to put a single tissue on everyone's plate.
The next morning he started his breakfast with a banana as usual. This time, though, he forgot that you usually peel your banana before you cut it into slices, and decided to cut his banana peel and all.
Surprisingly, the banana didn't help him get his bowels moving, which surely couldn't be linked by his incredibly water-free diet. When I had the joy of buying him an enema at Happy Harry's later that day I soon found that enemas come in an array of choices; just like you would find with cough medicine or eye-drops. Enemas can come in the generic "saline rinse," or the latex-free "saline rinse." They can come in "mineral oil," or "Super Extra," size. Or, for the salt and latex allergy customer you can go for the "Super Mineral Oil- Latex Free- Extreme Value," enema. Who knew how many kinds of enemas were available to the Freedom-loving American consumer?
Luckily, Grandpop was able to pass a BM without the enema, but good thing, in his own words, "It'll [the enema] still be good for the next time I need it."
Another sun rises over the Eriksen household at 326 Spalding Rd. and Grandpop decides he wants to be useful, so Grandmom tells him he can help by emptying the trashcans throughout the house.
He begins with emptying his own bathroom's trashcan into a big bag and then asks Gradmom what he's supposed to do with "this container." If you have a good memory you might remember that Grandpop refers to any "noun" that might hold another "noun" as a "container."
So, Grandmom tells his that "container" is called a trashcan and that it goes right back where he found it- which just so happens to be directly at his feet.
Grandmom says, "Go empty the other bathroom's trashcan too." To which Grandpop asks, "This room?"
"No," she says, "This is called a bedroom. I want you to go into the other bathroom and empty that trashcan."
"There's another bathroom?" he asks.
All I can think is "Wow." How can you not know that another bathroom that you use several times a day isn't ingrained into your memory?
Speaking of that bathroom and constipation business Grandpop continues to have trouble with his stools. He tells Grandmom that she needs to make an appointment with his urologist to dilate his urethra. If you don't know what this means, God bless you. If you do, then you might wonder why you would ask to have a rod shoved up your penis to help you take a shit. Well, Grandmom asks him how does he think seeing the urologist will help him with his bowels- and finally after a while he gives in and says that maybe he should see someone besides the urologist for constipation problems.
In other news...
Grandmom was telling me about the importance of having marsala wine in the house for certain recipes, like wine sauces. When we started talking about how important it is to have wine in the house for cooking she said, "You know, there are some people who don't really drink...like, at all. (Pause) I don't really know any of them, but they're out there."- Oh Grandmom...
And, let it be known that I truly hate when people use the word "uproarious" to describe a movie. If you have to stoop to that word then it means that movie isn't worth seeing. And on that subject, movie reviewers are worthless people. Unless you know that someone has the same exact taste as you in movies, there's no point in listening to what anyone else has to say about anything- be it movies, music, books or art.
And, if you know me this comes as no surprise- but I am a bit crazy. I find it truly fun when I get to run outside and scream at the squirrels who are eating all of the birdseed, and get to send their little hearts into heart-attack mode.
And to finish things up...
The other day as G-Mom was flipping through the channels and she ended up on ET there was this "reporter" interviewing these anorexic twins from Australia who had gained weight and were on the road to recovery. When she asked this question I wondered to myself, why did i even go to college if I could do this job. The question the "reporter" asked the twins was, "Did you kind of realize that you need to eat to live?"
In case you never knew that you actually need food to survive, now you know that food in an essential part of living.
Well that's all for now, and since I'm going on vacation for a while probably no updates for a while. Thanks for those who read, and take as much joy in my misery as possible, because someone ought to benefit from it.