Two equally hilarious things I've heard in the past two days, sort of connected but sort of not.
My mother is toying with the idea of moving back to a retirement community that she just moved OUT of a few years ago because she hated it there. She pretty much hates people. Toying my foot...she's probably writing them a check even as we speak. And when she moves back in there, she's going to have internet access again, and it's only a matter of time before she finds this blog, and then she's going to beat me with the butcher knife again. But I digress.
She called me yesterday to ask me what she should do. But not really. She wants someone to blame for a decision that ultimately will be wrong. If she stays where she is (living on the edge of my brother's property in the middle-of-freakin-nowhere) she will be miserable. If she moves back to this retirement community where there are lots of old people she will be broke AND miserable.
I met her there tonight to see the apartment that she's possibly going to get (well not really, because they haven't quite finished moving the woman's things out who apparently just died on Saturday, and they called Mom offering the apartment on Sunday--what a morbid business), but one just like it. She doesn't like the layout of it, and the bedroom looks like it should be a closet or something. Mamaneena could use it for her office. I told Mom to put the bed in the living room, which is large. Damn, I have digressed again.
When Mom called me yesterday, she said she didn't know what to do. I kept telling her to consider the pros and cons of both situations and decide where she would be LEAST unhappy. At my brother's she's alone all the time, because my brother works out of town. And Mom is Mom. Nuff said. At the old folks place, I mean retirement village, there are all those people. People bother Mom. They get on her nerves big time. And they ride their scooters.
At the end of our conversation, Mom said she would just have to pray about it. (This praying business is coming from the same woman who beats children with a butcher knife, mind you.)
"But," she said, "while I'm praying about it, I'm going to start packing."
And the other sort-of-but-not-directly-connected funny that I heard today came from a young co-worker. He used to work at a funeral home, and he was the one who answered the phone one day when someone from this same retirement community called.
"One of our residents has expired," the voice said.
He thought to himself, "Why are you calling us? Can't you just renew them?" He thought they were talking about a lease or something.