It was mostly an easy day with the parents. However, I totally lost my patience after supper and yelled at them, both of them. It's seems to be the little things that break me.
At the end of supper, Mom just dumped her leftovers in her trash can by her chair. I told her not to do that because it gets smelly. Usually she puts only tissue and the like in there, so I don't make a habit of emptying the trash cans until they get full. Just at the same time, I heard Dad collecting his supper dishes. I rushed into the den to see him dump his plate into his trash can.
I just lost it and stomped around yanking bags out of the trash cans, putting new ones in and yelling at them not to do that for crying out loud. I learned my stomping from an expert.
I think the reason I lost it so bad is because we're having to watch Joe like a hawk to keep him from dumping loose stuff in the garbage collection can. It's one of those big ones that gets rolled to the end of the driveway on collection day. In the winter, it's not bad. In the summer, it's just nasty. If you don't put loose trash and garbage in it, it doesn't get as smelly or as hard to clean out. Since they've kept it by the door from the den to the garage for years, I shouldn't change it's placement.
If we can't break Joe from dumping loose trash in it, I may simply change it regardless of any confusion it may cause. I'm not spending another summer with that nasty, stinking garbage can by the door leading into the house.
As far as other things go, it was an easier day than some. Dad spent most of the day sleeping and watching TV. When he was watching the basketball game, we had to close the door to the den because if he wasn't already deaf, the volume would have done the job. I think his left knee is bothering him more than usual. The last few days he makes it into the living room and glitches turning to go into the kitchen.
I walked into the living room tonight to Mom shining my flashlight in my eyes. I found her earlier in the day in Dad's closet. She just discovered it. She's beginning to make faces at taking her medicine. She used to just pop it down with no fuss or muss. In the last few days she's complained about cleaning her face because she doesn't like getting the cold cream under her nails. This is a new thing. She's cleaned her face nightly without any comment ever since I've been coming up.
I think it's time to put some new stuff on the table beside Mom's chair. If she shows me the newspaper she saved from the day Elvis Presley died or my picture from 5th grade one more time I may just scream.