I wake up. I'm in the Big Red House sleeping in the guest bedroom b/c the AC is out in my house. Again. Again in the same month. Brain declares this to be an unholy hour of the morning despite the crashing and other noises that indicate total destruction and I desperately attempt to go back to my dreams that would cause the romance novel genre readers to pale should they ever see them.
The noise from the kitchen is escalating. Resistance is futile. I get up and get ready. I think I got lost flossing. Morning is not good for me. Especially when there are no littles running about. I must have flossed for a good fifteen minutes. Shuffled laundry. Everyone's laundry is now done together b/c we are somewhat wiped out after the hospital stint w/gma. I am more of a multitasker and I'm short on undies so I pay better attention and all that rot. I fold all the clean clothes and vow to eat breakfast, like, in the morning so I grab a banana to remind myself.
More laundry arrives from the depths of my father's room. I shall save the description of his laundry. Suffice it to say he gets very, very dirty. And sweaty. Handle with tongs. 'Nuff said. I shuffle loads again and fold more. There are enough people here to create a million loads a day. Baba mentions that she needs to talk to me privately some time this morning. I don't know about you, but if you have had my upbringing that sort of request can still strike fear in your heart even if you're 41. I know I haven't done anything. My brain asks me what horrific violation I've committed now. I don't answer. It's still before noon. I have no thoughts before noon. Strike that. Of late, I've had to think a smidgen in order to make sure gma takes the right medicine at the right time. So I check that out and perform other nursely duties including moving the broken hip hazard out of the middle of her bathroom. I feel I'm constantly looking for things to trip over.
I get dressed. You know, the kind of dressed that people outside the family can see...which means I put on a bra. I changed clothes, too (you're welcome), but often I don't mind filing things and doing paperwork in my jammies. I've earned the right to file and do all of our records and financial business in my PJ's I think. I carry all the file boxes I'd generated in the office into the Big Red House. There's just more room in here. I got a "holy cow" from Buddy who was just sitting there reading the news on his Samsung Note. #geethanksforthehelpdad :) I put away all the laundry I'd cleaned. This is quite an exercise on a compound. It's not like you can just stay in one house, you know. I also get everything read to work on the bank books and continue the frontal attack on the "files." The files are a whole other entry. Files/taxes. Not even funny. Or maybe hysterical.
I started working on the books. Reconciling the ledger versus the bank statement, etc. Then I remembered the "private talk" gma wanted to have. So...I went and had it. I was not in trouble. That was the most important part. Maybe. However, her portable DVD player that she takes to chemo was/is broken, so she wanted me to lay hands on it. (Contrary to popular opinion, I cannot fix everything). It proved to have a "take apart" problem. In all likelihood I'll kill it trying to fix it. I ended up groveling around for a CD player and cord, etc. so she could listen to a book on CD. Somewhere in there, she mentioned (after SIX YEARS) that she can't unbutton her shirts or jeans that I've folded or hung. So I went through the whole lot and had a mass unbuttoning party. Then, of course, there was more laundry to shuffle and a load to fold.
While I'm still standing, I make gma's bed. She likes it made. The rest of us are slobs. I like mine made, too, actually, but with everything going on I rarely get that far down on the totem pole. Usually people are already talking to me and requesting things before I get out of the darn thing. Finally, I sit down and open up all the software and crap to work on the bank books. AND I get to eat my banana/breakfast. I log onto the online banking to find that the gerbils and squirrels they have employed to maintain the thing have been fast at work. Yesterday the bank statement ended with 6/28 and today it ends with 6/27. Then on one view they show a slough of transactions that I have receipts for, but on the statement view, they aren't shown at all. A good .22 can fix this problem. However, the buzz from the dryer made me put my keys down and fold laundry instead. This would suck more if there were no gerbils and squirrels running the place at all. Don't laugh. It's literally a stand alone bank in the middle of nowhere. I'm certain they make them use the back entrance, but it's gerbils and squirrels...the new alternative to child labor, people!
I do the best I can to rearrange things and finish out my month using the rodent version of online banking. I didn't do too badly. I can right things when the statement arrives. IN TWO WEEKS. More laundry. More things to fiddle with before gma goes to chemo. Some sort of brain alarm goes off at 11:50 and I remember that Dad wanted me to go get him at 11:45 so he could shower and eat lunch before the chemo jaunt, so I dropped the laundry I was passing into the dryer and lit out for the front acre hollering his name like a lunatic. NOTE: He is totally deaf. Almost. For example, him deaf and me wearing headphones at decent volume are relatively equivalent. So I figure if he won't go to get his (FREE) hearing aids, then I won't take out my headphones and we'll just scream at each other. This is how we get along when working outside together.
It is noon. You must eat. This is a family belief. Somewhere in there with Adam and Even and baby Jesus. Breakfast by 7:30, lunch at noon, dinner at 6:00 (it used to be 5:00, but...whatever). I tend to eat when I'm hungry. You know....like when your car needs gas you fill up. You wouldn't fill up a full car. Anyway. I was asked no less than four times what I wanted. My last answer was "anesthesia" and that ended that. I did settle down for my ten minutes help on the family crossword puzzle as I'm the regular-to-funky science fact/ pop culture authority. When done with that, I snagged a Dr. Pepper and slinked back to my roost in the living room and continue reconciling ledgers like a regular accountant. I put my headphones in both ears this time, though. Even though I can hear everyone clearly, they look at me and assume that I can't hear for beans and go about their merry way. Don't think I haven't perfected this art.
No idea where this hour went. I was working, though. I meant to start this falderal around 8:00 a.m. so a bit of lag on today's schedule. I had to have music to put a little zip in my step. Mimi must not have approved b/c she chose suffering in the stuffiness of her (not the greatest circulation) room over the possibility she might hear my music. It's campy '80's throwbacks! What's not to love? I am ignoring the laundry.
Still ignoring the laundry despite my chronic need to move around. I'm  this close to being done with the monthly ugly bank funk. Next is attacking all the filing that needs to be done. Yay. I'll have to fold something...anything...or my brains will leak out my ears. There are all kinds of things to work on outside and the weather is just gorgeous. I feel the pull.....
When I say I'm handling money junk, I mean I'm handling money junk for the whole compound. If it were just my money this would all end in two minutes flat. What really happens is they spend it and I take the receipts and online bank statements and iron it all out. I also get handed the bills. Paying the bills is like spinning plates. No one in Barnum&Bailey's has anything on me for plate spinning. Sometimes, though, I have to do quite a bit of extortion to make sure I know what everyone else has been doing with the family pot. Which brings me to...
I must fold something or my tail end is never going to come to life again. Not to mention the callouses on my wrists. Have I filed anything? Ummmmm.....no. The dryer has saw fit not to dry anything, so I grabbed envelopes and such to get rid of the checks that I wrote and prepared for....wait for it...filing!!! Dad texted me (texted...I can't believe that's even a word) to ask if I was asleep. I'd love nothing more, but I'm actually awake. Not wide awake, but awake. Side note: Everyone around here is always asking me if I'm awake. Or, they say something like, "You're awake!" with great astonishment. W.T.H. already? I get up with Squib who likes to rise pre-dawn and go to sleep when everyone else has already sacked out. Sheesh. Anyway, folded, filed, and generally got down to the business of being a boring houseperson. I'm not a housewife, so...they call me the houseperson.
Would you believe I was still doing laundry? Ack! Then I got hungry and laid waste to some macaroni casserole. Then all the chemo sojourners came back from their travels and occupied my time with things I can't even remember.
Thus endeth the formal portion of today with a phone call from Squib to tell me that he is doing nothing. Nothing at all. Not reading, watching movies, or playing with any toys according to my prompts. What he was doing was hiding out in his room with his dad's cell phone. 7 years of age.