Friday, July 05, 2002

things are better.

they were already better last night, after reading evan's eMail. could still kick myself though. argh. would have so wanted to see gomez. argh. argh. argh.

oh well.
worst thing about this recent drama is that now my urge to check and re-check everything is at an all time high. ocd in full swing.
last night when i arrived at home after closing up the shop, i had to drive back to the shop to check whether i had indeed locked the door. i couldn't remember whether i had done my usual door locking ritual (lock door twice, press down doorhandle three times while loudly saying "the door is locked"). nice.

also started insanely detailed to-do and pack-lists for my trip. i will indeed list every piece of clothing i intend to pack, otherwise i'll just shove my entire wardrobe into my suitcase (end up paying for excess luggage, take clothing i won't wear), forget presents for half the people who should get some or stuff i don't urgently need but still "need" (such as all the recipes i transcribed yesterday, advance bought tickets for the train ride, or i'll find myself in frankfurt early on a monday morning without money to buy a ticket home)

bloody hell, i will not let that kind of slip happen again.

that aside, things here are hectic. one of my mother's employees decided to call in sick today (and informed someone else -not me directly- that she'll be away well into next week), which left me and another employee trying to organize back-up. back-up that took the form of me this afternoon, and will be me tomorrow, too. nice.
wanted to have a quiet day at home, doing some cleaning and washing and ironing, and instead it's hell in a handbasket at the shop. oh well.
will have to do the housestuff later tonight then - my ocd hasn't kicked in regarding orderliness here yet, since wednesday, i've been terribly negligent regarding feeding myself & keeping things pretty and neat, i.e. i am overeating and haven't even bothered to put the empty marshmallow bags, oreo snack pack wrappers and empty pespsi max bottles into the bin. they are nicely displayed on the couch table, in a pretty array with my 12 year old gameboy, several books, my to-do lists and a variety of tour de france magazines.

speaking about the latter, i will not get a chance to go to luxembourg to see the prologue tomorrow. it's breaking my heart, but with the current situation at the shop, there's no chance for me to get away for the entire day. plus i still don't feel quite fit enough for the long drive and all. instead, i'll work my bum off till 2pm and spend the afternoon at the summer party of my grandmother's nursery home. doesn't that sound terribly entertaining?
will make sure though to be home by 5 when the tv coverage kicks in. sorry, i am horrible enough to choose the tdf over my grandma. yes.

she's been in an pretty "wannabe-in-a-bad-mood"-mood today, did not say a nice word about the new dress i brought in for her and kept saying "no. no. no. no" and complaining about feeling sick, which is nothing but psychosomatic. both complaints are the pillars of her tried and tested method of getting attention. a few years back, when still in the middle of her prescription drug dependance, she spend a few months saying nothing but "no" and a few decades residing in her bed with a view of the main entrance of our house, ushering my grandpa basically was her private servant. when he died, her main feeling was "how did he dare leave me while i needed him". her doc diagnosed anything from rheumathoid arthritis to parkinson's and whatever else, and supplied her with all the meds she needed (indluding lots of diazepam). thing is, she never was "sick" in any way. when she was admitted for her drug dependance and all-round mental health issues, she was totally taken of all meds, lost tons of weight and sudednly had no more health problems to speak of. oh well.
in any way, today when i didn't support her crappy behaviour but instead told her no, we'll go to the party tomorrow, and no, i didn't think your not going to your scheduled programme today was a good idea, and no, i won't stay any longer to be yelled at, she got all soft and wanted to talk and yadayadayada.
i hate her being in a nursery home, i'd rather shoot myself before ever living in one while still fit in the head (and at almost 92, my grandma is surprisingly fit in the head, no dementia, nothing. no one knows how her brain got through all the morphine derivates, but it did, somehow), but i couldn't imagine having to care for her. i just could not and would not do it. it doesn't mean i don't love her, but her manipulative crap just makes me wild, which in turn makes me feel guilty, because after all, this is a 92 year old lady with massive bouts of agitated depression (she's scratched herself bloody, hit her head against the wall and the like, during and after her detox) and i should be accepting and understanding and loving, but i just can't be at all times. but i don't want to be, either. and the latter is pure revenge and hatred caused by how she raised my mother, how she always preferred my uncle to her, how she was always the egoistic empress of her household, how she doesn't listen, says hurtful things to me.

which brings me to jonathan franzen's "the corrections", a book on a family not held together by love or compassion. i read it in just about 48 hours lasz weekend, that shows how fucking awesome that book is. some scenes hit very close to home, some descriptions and pictures were just perfectly crafted and captured and so vivid they hurt. by far one of the best books i've read in years. strongly discouraged my mother to read it, because if she's got any insight, it'll hit even closer to home for her.

oh well.

in any way, i'll be a good granddaughter tomorrow, take my gandma out to the party and leave by 5pm -hopefully still with my dignity intact- to recharge in front of the tv, revelling in the pleasure of seeing lance on a bike, hopefully wearing the yellow at the end of the day.