In 2003, Ma had a stroke. Dad was her full time caregiver until he he had a car accident that totaled the car. So in 2006, I became their chauffeur among other jobs.
At the time, to deal with the stress of running two households and working, I kept a blog entitled CJ's Whine and Cheeze. Egged on by some friends who enjoyed the first read through, you'll see your part when it comes by.
Sunday, September 16, 2007
Up, Down, No side side!
Ma wanted a mop. Every time we were down the housekeeping aisle in Market Basket, she fondled the mops. She would look each and every model over, and each and every time she would reject them as too expensive. This was so ridiculous to my little princess way of thinking. If you need a mop, you buy a mop. Besides, she has enough each week to enter bogus lotteries or send money to psychics. If she held off for just one day, she’d have enough money to buy the mop at Market Basket. She might even have enough to buy two mops!
She called me a few days before a trip to the foot doctor.
“I want you to take me to the Dollar Store, after we go to the doctor. He doesn’t keep me waiting long and we’ll already be out.”
Now, I’m not much for shopping. I hate crowded stores and crowded parking lots. I hate driving through congested suburban streets while dodging construction from one turn to the next. My idea of a perfectly good shopping expedition, is to point and click my way through my virtual mall. I wasn’t too keen on a trip to the Dollar Store. I could see what would happen. The Dollar Store is “on the way” to Market Basket. Ma would wheedle a trip there since we were “already out.”
I’d take Ma on her outing. I figured it would be like buying an indulgence for my soul. I’d arrive early with my Floor Mate to show her a better way of washing the floor. She can’t lug a bucket of water and according to her, Dad doesn’t do anything. (The polite refrain of the He’s Stupid song.) I’d show her how quickly the floor could be washed with a source of clean water, no rinsing or wringing a filthy, disgusting mop. I’d show her the little princess way. The Floor Mate is a handy machine that scrubs the floor and sucks up the dirty water with a push of a button. Empty the catch cup of the dirty water and voila. Clean floor. No scrubbing on hands and knees. Hands don’t touch the filth, disgusting mophead.
I arrived an hour early on the day of her appointment. I brought the Floor Mate and just for chuckles I brought the Swiffer Wet Mop which I use in between Floor Mate cleanings for quick touch ups. I was running the Floor Mate around the kitchen, and I stopped to show her how easy it was and how to use the Swiffer.
“Well, you didn’t do a very good job!” She grabbed the Swiffer from me. “Like this. Up down.”
I’m lucky she didn’t hand me the can of Butcher’s floor wax. “Wax on, wax off.” (Which was my job, on my hands and knees, when I was a kid to wax the floor after she washed it and it dried)
She was taken with both the Swiffer and the Floor Mate.
“I’ll leave them here, you can have them.”
“No, I want a new one!”
I bought another indulgence by holding my tongue. I almost said, “Nope, too expensive.” At least Christmas gift giving will be easy this year.
