Good news...sort of

So Gma went to the doctor yesterday is she is allowed to put weight on her leg as she feels she's ready. She is also able to drive again (scary) as soon as she feels ready, but will have to practice in a parking lot or something prior to hitting the road. Honestly, I don't know of anyone that is going to volunteer for this because she was scary behind the wheel even before her fall this past April...I just don't see myself being an eager beaver in this scenario.

This news translates into no one having to stay the night with her anymore. She still needs help changing her clothes, but she's got to the point where she is walking with her walker in the evenings to bed and setting things up so all she has to do is walk to the bathroom first thing, handle her business and then she gets in the shower (where she has a shower chair) and can manage until someone helps her with her clothes.

Mom had planned on coming over last night to help her to bed, but she is busy as hell packing and trying to get all my dad's shit together so he can "play army" and leave for Kosovo at the end of the week. I told Gma that I'd be able to help her, but that I had wanted to be in bed by the nine to nine thirty mark because it was the one day I had this week where I'd actually be able to do that. So nine twenty five rolls around and she's in bed...I'm flipping the light off when her cell phone rings. FUCK. I continue with what I was doing and let the dog back in so that I can be in bed by my planned time for a change.

My cellphone rings shortly after and Gma tells me that George (my jackass deacon uncle who has his own concept of time) has decided that because he's going to his daughter's house (this bitchy spoiled chick) in South Carolina in the morning and will be there for a week he needed to cut the grass tonight. Gma actually agreed which pissed me off. She tells me that if it gets too loud and distracting to just put the covers over my head....REALLY LADY, REALLY?

It's nine forty five by this point, I send Jen the last text of the night, urging her to get some sleep for a change too when I hear it. THE LAWNMOWER--one of those industrial grade landscaping deals (because he couldnt just buy a simple John Deere)...he wanted one that sounds like it has a jet engine apparently. I dose off for a few minutes while he cut the opposite side of the house.

10:08 pm I hear the house phone ring, ARE YOU FUCKING SERIOUS...(I'm sorry, I'm old school and don't believe in calling anyone after nine o'clock at night...you never know what they're doing)...I never answer Gma's phone because no one I know even has the number, I know it's not for me....(unless it's XM radio trying to get me to come back...they found the number via my address I suppose, because I don't even have Gma's number listed on my car loan application where they got my original information...I'm strictly a cell phone person and hell of my 450 anytime minutes, I might use 13 in a given month...) But I digress....

I close my eyes after tossing and turning a few times to fall asleep again, only to be woke up by the loud jet propelled lawn mower under my window...I get up, stomp over the light switch, flip it on....along with every other light I possibly can on my way to the bathroom....Pee since I was up anyway, stomp back to bed after turning lights off and try it one more time, cussing my uncle the most creative ways I possibly can. He's such a fuckhead with no concept of mowing etiquette. I wanted him to know I was up thats why I flipped on all the lights and did everything short of opening the blinds, tossing out the screen as I opened the window to hang out of it flipping him off and yelling obscenities into the night.

I mean just because they put lights on the front end of lawnmowers doesn't mean you HAVE to use them. Why is this such a hard concept to grasp? It's like just because my car comes with a lighter...I'm not required to use it. It's decoration. Ten Forty eight... and still awake....

Why do I even fucking try. The alarm goes off at five forty five, I get out of bed at six fifteen, grumpy, eyes swollen, and the thought of calling in in my mind....I officially do not like my uncle. (this time for a legitimate reason...--before the reason just included that he talked to fucking much, was annoying, has it in his head I'm going to hell for being gay, avoids touching his own brother...not my dad but my other uncle who is gay as if he's scared my uncle is contagious...) Most days I see him talking and I'm not listening...I'm looking through him and wishing I hadn't gotten rid of that 18" double ended dildo that was like a coke can in girth, lol....(it was scary) but made an excellent prop for when drinking at parties. I'd pull it out and if someone was annoying me I'd smack them in the face with it....I should invest in another one....hell seeing his face as he got smacked by a translucent hot pink monster cock would definitely be worth the investment. And if I'm going to hell anyway....why not.... haha.

On the upside...the grass is cut so I don't have to worry about not seeing a snake coming after me in the tall grass....I'M STILL PISSED HOWEVER.