Although I was so happy to be with her and her caregiver on this beautiful sunny day, I am still a little sore from last week's intense grousing. So I was happy to have her caregiver's company and hear her stories. Sometimes the chatter on both sides was simultaneous, with mom telling me that I eat too fast, I chew too quickly and my bites are too big, while from the back seat the caregiver is telling me in excruciating detail how an unaddressed package arrived at her daughter's house and she called the police to remove it. In another story, she scrutinized the activities of a set of Amazon drivers who were acting suspicious. On one hand our caregiver is the mayor of any street she's on and nothing gets past her, and on the other almost every story includes the race of the people in the story ("a black man" "a chinese lady").
Mom wanted to drive down to the water, which would take forever. I started to head that way but instead purposefully meandered into a neighborhood that we hadn't been in recently all the while my mom asking me if I was still enjoying driving her car. Readers of mrsguy will remember that this is my car I've convinced is her old car. The streets were rough "Please leave me some tires so that you can drive me around again," she complained.
As we headed toward the freeway, our caregiver saw a car that reminded her of one she'd owned, reminding her of one last story. She bought the car at a used car dealership. It was really beautiful but after a few days of driving it she felt uneasy and could swear that it smelled like blood -- as if someone had died in it. She returned the car to the dealership and she had been right. The car had been in a crash where the driver died, and they'd fixed the car for resale. Whoa. I rented a car once that smelled like someone had tipped over their bong in it, but nothing like that.
Today was short but sweet. 4 days until I take her to the neurologist and 5 days until I have a fine needle aspiration on my thyroid. It'll be fine.
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