My mom’s been with Poor -Jim and me for 3 years, 2 months and 16 days. I have been in lock down for 3 years, 2 months and 16 days :(). I fancy my self an expert on how to keep busy and not leave home except once every 2 or 3 months, and that is for dental appointments only. Or the occasional trip to the hospital, but that’s a different story 😦
You can’t take a 90-something lady out very easily in the best weather. I definitely can’t take my 90-something lady out if there is wind, rain, cold or heat. So, we stay home.
I used to have a big SUV that was like asking a 90-something lady to climb Mount Everest. Everest may have been easier because at least she’d have a Sherpa.
I no longer have my nice, big SUV. I am the reluctant sharer of a tiny sedan with Poor-Jim. It fits my 90-something mom great, I have to bend like a contortionist to fit my head in if I am wearing my hair up in a bun. I always have my hair in a bun these days. I tried cutting my hair, pre-COVID, (so no excuse). I gave myself an exceptionally bad mullet, providing there is a good mullet, and vowed never to try it again. I told the lady at the beauty shop, who attempted to fix my handiwork of mass destruction, that my sister did it. I never saw her before that un-repair job or since, but I couldn’t let her think I was the perpetrator of said mullet.
Since Covid, my hair has grown like crazy and my bun is getting so big, I need to get another big car so my hair will fit. Thank Jesus for retirement and the lockdown, I couldn’t get to work with my giant bun in Poor-Jim’s tiny car.
I used to work a zillion hours in the old days. On my day or days off, I NEVER wanted to leave home. Now I can’t. It’s my retirement dream come true! There is a down side. I used to enjoy cleaning my house on my day off. Now, I clean every day. I’m getting sick of my only hobby.
I am grateful to have a home to clean. I am super grateful my mom doesn’t have to live in a retirement home. I get frustrated with her but, ultimately, I know how precious it is to have her here with us. She doesn’t know she lives here. I don’t know if it’s dementia or wishful thinking, but she talks about going home. She talks about her grandson picking her up and taking her home. I remind her that she lives here now and she ignores me.
My 90-something mom and I have been figuring out the art of quarantine for 3 years, 2 months and 16 days. I’m glad to have her with me, I couldn’t do it without her.