Today I miss having my own life. I miss it badly. I must be running on reserve tank today but I’m thoroughly tired of answering my mother’s questions about her hair. Her hair is in dire need of a shampoo, a cut, and maybe a perm–that was always her regimen in the past. She has refused to go to the hairdresser for months now, and yet I think she believes that I can magically restore it to its old look simply by putting it up in curlers. While in the hospital, one of the nurses French-braided it, which neatened things up. I’ve been pulling it back into a ponytail since then. She has asked me at least three times whether she should take the rubber band out of her hair today. She “doesn’t think it’s working out.”

Aye-yi-yi, as they say. It needs a good shampoo–a real shampoo, with water and everything–but she doesn’t want to. And I’m just too tired to argue with her.

Oh, yes, and her toenails need to be trimmed–which means either a trip to the podiatrist or a soak in the footbath before I trim them. I’ve already spent the morning paying bills, cleaning the bathroom, doing the laundry and the vacuuming, washing out the anti-embolism stockings (which cost about $25 a pair, so we don’t have as many as we should have…). My sister seems to have unilaterally decided that she will stay overnight only every other night, and this arrangement does not seem to include anything more than sleeping here and watching TV. No housework, no personal grooming assistance. No medicine administration, no outings for Mom. No leaf-raking, no grocery shopping. No nothing, unless it’s spelled out for her, and I’m getting tired of all this spelling.

So I merely need to vent. And in the interest of keeping an honest blog, I’ve decided to vent here. No need to comment on this–it’s just a little spume. Move along.