Our constant fear with the oldies is another fall. He's broken both hips. She's had a hip replacement and bashed her head in over the piano. So guess what I did today? Oiled the hardwoods in the kitchen!
Now before you think I am cruel or wicked, let me explain myself. My hardwood floors are destroyed. I have warned them repeatedly that this needs to be done. I have kept a clear, dry path for them to get to the refrigerator. I have gone into the dungeon to warn them about the slippery spot. I have put a big sign up that says, "WARNING!" I'm considering flares. What's one more fire?
They haven't come out to fry up lunch yet but it should be soon. I'm on stand-by to call 911.
Showing posts with label dungeon. Show all posts
Showing posts with label dungeon. Show all posts
Saturday, November 24, 2007
Monday, October 22, 2007
The Dungeon
One of my thousands of quirks is giving everything and almost everyone a nickname. I have named the oldies' bedroom "The Dungeon." What used to be a bright and airy room is usually dark and depressing. The room has a huge window but I don't think sunlight has hit that room in two years. When the daughter lived with us, she made it cheerful and alive. Now it is the opposite. When it was a guest room, our friend Billy used to just disappear. It was comfortable and inviting. He would decide (in the middle of a party) that it was time to go to bed. So, he did.
Big Daddy got a little annoyed with the oldies a few months ago. Nothing new. He was frustrated with the Unabomber so he announced to me, "I'm not going in there any more. If he wants to see me or talk to me, he can come out here." He's not 100 percent on this oath, but he's close.
I find myself saying:
He asked me to stop calling it the dungeon but I can't help myself. Last night we ordered a pizza. How gourmet are we? I went back to tell them they were welcome to get out of bed and join us. (They didn't.) We ate our little dinner and had some patio time. The husband asked if the oldies were coming out and I explained that I did invite them.
He said, "You went into the dungeon?"
Big Daddy got a little annoyed with the oldies a few months ago. Nothing new. He was frustrated with the Unabomber so he announced to me, "I'm not going in there any more. If he wants to see me or talk to me, he can come out here." He's not 100 percent on this oath, but he's close.
I find myself saying:
Please go in the dungeon and tell them dinner is in 20 minutes.
Please go in the dungeon and see if they're okay.
Please go in the dungeon and see if they would like to order Chinese food.
Please go in the dungeon and tell them the phone is for her.
Please go in the dungeon and make sure there are no candles burning.
He asked me to stop calling it the dungeon but I can't help myself. Last night we ordered a pizza. How gourmet are we? I went back to tell them they were welcome to get out of bed and join us. (They didn't.) We ate our little dinner and had some patio time. The husband asked if the oldies were coming out and I explained that I did invite them.
He said, "You went into the dungeon?"
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