If all else fails, beat it with your cane!

They had a doctor's appointment yesterday, so when I arrived at 12:30 both were dressed, had sweaters on, and were ready to go. I was to clean the entire house while they were gone, with special emphasis on the gas range grates. Seriously. Oh, did I mention - I was hired as a Care Giver? Normally I would be taking them to that appointment, making sure they were safe and secure, and driving them back home. But she is still very much "in charge".

The appointment proved to be too much for her, and when they arrived back home nearly 3 hours later, she was exhausted and had a headache. Carpet cleaners were coming the next day, and she was fussing about needing to move all of the odds and ends of furniture. She told me that "we", meaning she and I, would be moving the furniture. Suddenly something else urgent popped into her head. They had just purchased new lamps, which came packed in a huge amount of styrofoam. She wanted me to smash it all down and put it into the garbage. "There is too much", I said. "To smash it would cause a huge mess, with small pieces flying all over, and even then it won't fit into your garbage can. Better to put it in black garbage bags and THEN smash it, and have it taken to a large dumpster." She was obviously very displeased at my answer, but, true to her usual method of operation, she said nothing. She simply took a large butcher knife, her cane, and her determination, and went out to do it herself. Pretty soon the husband and I heard a commotion out by the garbage can, which I'd already placed at the edge of the sidewalk. There she was, with one large piece of styrofoam sticking out of the can, beating it with her cane. He smiled. We stood at the window watching her. "Wow." he said softly, "she's really beating the hell out of that, isn't she?" We laughed. I said I was worried the neighbors would think they were witnessing a crime scene. It was an interesting thing, to be enjoying this with him, so amused. I was hoping this activity would relieve some of her tension.


She came back to the house, styrofoam in tow, defeated. "There's too much" she said. "It's making a huge mess to try to smash it up. I'm going to just put it into large black garbage bags and have Don Jr haul it off later." Gosh. Wish I would have thought of that!

She plopped down on a chair but her mind was still swirling. The furniture HAD to be moved.

He wanted to help. She kept nagging at him to sit down. I was wondering if she really thought I was going to move two rooms of furniture and all that was on them by myself. I smiled at Don. "Hey. Wanna help me move some furniture?" Finding herself too weak to argue, she watched while the two of us moved flowers, pictures, candles, and tables, as well as the very heavy dining room chairs. On moving the final heavy end table, I felt his side of the load start to shake so I said "I have an idea! Just set it down and I'll slide it the rest of the way." Dignity saved, and no harm done. I'm sure all that lifting was actually good for him, and it certainly made him feel manly again!