She cannot figure out how to make one cup of coffee, so she makes two cups every morning and either throws one away or I drink it. Before I was here, she literally threw away one cup for every cup she drank.
She’ll see on the news a story about a coyote in a town hundreds of miles away, and she’ll put a pee-pee pad down for her shih tzu inside rather than take the dog outside to go. She’s afraid the coyote is in the yard.
The door stays locked at all times. All three locks. Storm door, door knob and dead bolt. It is not enough to just lock the storm door because there’s a good chance that at 12:00 in the afternoon on a bright sunny day when all the neighbors are out and about, a burgler might actually stand there on the porch for five minutes fucking with the storm door to get it open. Every time I leave, I gotta go through three locks to get back in. Place is like fort Knox.
She does not understand the concept that water isn’t ‘wasted’ when it is flushed or goes down the drain. That it is recycled and used again. The water bill goes up, but only by fractions. Same logic with the paper towel. Look; she will pee in the toilet several times before flushing it. How much do you reckon that gallon needed to flush, actually costs? Few cents? Maybe a dollar? To her, not only does that handful of cents hold the fate of her life in the balance, but the water also gets wasted.
I leave the faucet on when brushing because I don’t wanna turn the water back on every time I need to dunk my brush. She tells me I’m wasting water. I tell her im wasting nothing, and I’m choosing to pay a tiny bit more on the bill for the convenience of not having to turn the water back on every time I need to dunk my brush. She simply cannot grasp this logic.
She’ll spend 45 minutes on the phone haggling a grocery store manager about the amount of fat on the meat she bought. He finally gives her three dollars credit and she feels like she’s accomplished something. I’m not kidding. 45 minutes… going from clerk to another clerk to the manager all the way up to corporate sometimes.
Her question is ‘are you providing moderna boosters’, but instead of simply asking this in the message she leaves, she’ll leave a four minute message about how difficult it is for her to drive and the whole detailed story about where and when she got the first one and the risks of mixing brands, etc. Etc. All of this on the message machine. Finally at the end she’ll say ‘so I need to know if you have the moderna’.
She cannot grasp the concept that nobody needs to hear your whole fucking life story in the message. Ask the fucking question and stop holding everybody up.
She’s that lady you’re standing behind three people down in line, who keeps going on in conversation about irrelevant shit to the clerk, and she’s moving slower because she’s talking.
The older, fatter cat shits and pisses on the floor at least twice every 24 hours. There is not a square foot of carpet in this house that hasn’t been SHAT upon. Sometimes she’ll let it sit for twenty minutes before she cleans it up.
She refuses to use a modern mop for the kitchen. She’ll crawl around the floor with wash rags and then complain about how hard the work is. You gotta listen to it.
Every single time the lawn mower guys cut the yard, she bothers them about something and often tries to get them to do little extra shit for free.
She wears these ‘sundresses’ that are identical to a nightgown or house coat or some shit. All the time. She’s got like twenty of em. Even in public. She wears one of those emergency buttons, too. The ‘ive fallen and I can’t get up’ buttons.
Yo and she keeps all her old clothes that she’ll never wear again. Got like fifty pair of shoes. Seventeen purses. Etc.
There’s more. Much much more. Imma holla at cha. I won’t kill her tho, u got my word. Caint kill her, really. I need the leftovers when the house is sold and the reverse mortgage loan is paid off.
