Every Day Is Almost Exactly The Same

WEDNESDAY
12:08 a.m. -- At Grandma's. Pretty soon my parents will be taking their non-refundable trip to Boston for the Women's Final Four, and she'll be here. And I'll be on 24/7 watch, essentially. I try to watch some Letterman but end up reading From A Buick 8 instead around fitting in Conan's monologue.
1:30 -- Sleep.
3 -- Not so much.
3:10 -- Sleep.
5:40 -- Not so much.
5:42 -- False alarm.
6:30 -- Not so much.
6:35 -- Helping Grandma change debuts at #1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, and 9 on the AIEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE! chart of my life.
7:10 -- Sleep.
8: 17 -- My dad comes to replace me and takes me home since it's raining.
8:40 -- Attempt to sleep in my bed. I think all the room and comfort is throwing me off; the previous day everyone mentioned I looked tired and/or worried at work despite the fact I'd stayed home and slept in my bed for about the 4th night in the last month.
10:20 -- Well, that was something, I guess...
11:50 -- Brother has minimum day. I remember those. I liked them.
12:10 -- Shower.
12:50 -- Out.
1:20 -- Find out I did get Natalie Insurance and that I can call the police. Aaron got a call when it was lost, I was able to call the retriever who assured me she was going to meet Aaron. This was last Friday morning at one. No area code gets her number, and Natalie was already dipping in energy before going into a coma yesterday. Later on today, I'm siccing the pigs on her ass. I knew there was a reason I got insurance.
2 -- Eating. I should do that, and have half a hoagie.
2:30 -- Attempt to file report.
2:31 -- Put on hold.
2:45 -- Screw it, have to work.
3 -- My last day of work for at least a week and a half. I've never been less enthused about it in my life.
3:20 -- Since I have to be awake when Grandma is, and attempt sleep around it, I figure I'm essentially on 24-hour watch. My parents are gone for 6 days, equalling 144 hours. Assuming they get home on time Wednesday night around 10, 142 hours. I'm getting $10 an hour x the 30 hoursish of work I'm missing with a major conference in town by watching Grandma, so that's $300. It suddenly occurs to me I'm getting paid $2 an hour for caretaking a constantly potential life-and-death situation. YUP.
3:25 -- Explaining my absence next week to my boss (a different one) again. Same thing. "Such a great son, such a great grandson!"--you know, it wasn't like I was on Death Row before this. She didn't need a lot of help, but when my parents needed me I pitched in. Cleaning her house, putting in the eye drops, I did those things. And quite selfishly, I'm not going for the Nobel Prize of Grandson.
4:15 -- I try to think about all the fun times I had last month to keep my blood pressure down -- Grandma's proof of how I need to watch that -- but they seem like they happened a year and a half ago.
7:30 -- Done.
8:30 -- Home. Slump in this chair, after noting Grandma's here for some reason. I get interrupted every 3 minutes trying to catch up on what I've missed.
8:57 -- Grandma comes in to listen to her old-time radio stories. People use jeepers.
9 -- And now I can't watch Veronica Mars, the whole reason I didn't stay behind at work (no idea Grandma was here, and couldn't call from Natalie hee hee ho). SO. Angry.
9:01 -- Oh, no Countdown, either--the other 3 members of the house are watching the other 3 TVs.
9:25 -- Decide after reading a paper ad to see DJ AM next Thursday, aka The Soonest After This Fucking Week I can and throw a party. This, of course, is a) assuming I live and b) I don't commit any homicides. She may have had the minor stroke, but my social's on the morphine drip.
10 -- Her shows end! Just in time for me to miss everything!
10:02 -- And guess who's taking her to the bathroom!
10:50 -- Since my mom stopped off for milk, despite the fact she's probably going to have to buy groceries today, I don't even get my 3 hours at home I was expecting. Of course I was expecting to be able to sit on my bed and watch one of my favorite shows that even she raves about, but then again I keep foolishly assuming I have a life.
11:02 -- Back at Grandma's.
11:15 -- My mom launches into a toxicology report that sounds like Limbaugh's autopsy. 6 different types of pills to be served up at 4 different times, 3 eye drops, Social Security, Medicare, insurance, hospital info. Did I mention I'm also taking care of my brother for this interval? I will trade lives with 99.6% of the non-maximum-security-inhabiting populace. The chat seems to stretch forever and depresses me even further, especially in the light of my uncle geting colon cancer and my cousin in Detroit having a heart attack. I feel like the only of age family member who's not on Death Watch.
11:53 -- Why can't I cry about this? I realize I haven't cried about anything in four and a half years (building go down, your heart gets ripped out of your chest, throw in a cheating wife stealing your dog and your pickup and you can get on KSON hyuk), but it seems like as overwhelmed as I am, this would be a fine time. Maybe I'm saving it for later.

EARLY THURSDAY
12:21 -- Reading Stephen King in the face of that isn't that scary, especially when people get wished out to the cornfield instead of dying.
12:40 -- So exhausted I pass out during Conan's monologue.
2:06 -- And up. Decide to skip Donnie Darko; I've got "Mad World" in my head enough these days, thanks.
7:53 -- LAWNMOWER. My grandmother actually goes through five hours with sleep in the middle of the night for only the second time since and I get woken up by the fucking lawnmower. My body screams in pain over sleeping over a couch that can barely fit my 5'8", 160-pound frame lengthwise, the knot between my shoulder blades, my lower back, the back of my head, scream, scream, scream.
8:24 -- And that's waken her up enough to go to the bathroom. Precious. Also, Dad's late. Mmm.
8:42 -- Here we go. As I walk home, I think of how rare it is that I get that long sleep (that constitutes long now) and how it's dreamless. I always dream about something. Starlets. Talk show appearances. Book signings. (That's how I can tell I'm dreaming; I haven't written anything of substance in weeks now.) I slept in darkness, and the one thing I thought of of the thousands of things I had all day and night long was one phrase from a long time ago I heard on the radio: no future no future no future for YOU! Lydon was right and wrong then. He still is now.

np: "Ode To My Family" by the Cranberries