It occurred to me when I paid the landscapers today that they come every other week, and the last time they were here, we had to ask them to leave early, because we’d just called the cops on Dad, as Dad had barricaded himself in his bedroom and weren’t takin’ his pills, ain’t no way, ain’t no how.
Two weeks? Seriously? That’s all it’s been? I mean, we’re looking at assisted living facilities, Mom’s got control of financial and health decisions, I’ve doubled up on my counseling sessions, and our entire outlook on the next 1-3 years has completely changed. In two weeks. I cannot grok it.
In the meantime, I picked up a new tutoring student. Only six hours, private pay, which is nice, because it’s less paperwork. Child is smart and charming and thoroughly spoiled in a not-bad way. She’s just smart enough to get herself in trouble. She’s used to instantly understanding what’s going on, so when the going gets tough, she gives up.
Her grandparents own a palatial residence on top of a nearby mountain. The community is gated, and their driveway is gated. They have an infinity pool. There was a Porsche in the driveway when I arrived today. I swear, I have never in my life had such a bitter, petty spike of anger as I did when I pulled in yesterday. The whole “it’s not fair that we work so hard and have so little” blah blah blah. Took me a couple of minutes to shake it. Usually, when I’m really struck by the comparative difference in wealth between me and someone else, my reaction is usually 'holy cow, glad I don’t have to worry about the upkeep on that. Sure is pretty, though."
I think it’s less about envy or coveting than it is anxiety over how much I want to arrange placement for Dad in the really nice, incredibly expensive assisted living.
I swear, you hand me any topic, and in less than two independent statements, I can turn it into my dad and his Alzheimer’s.