The Crazy Lady Downstairs

Yet another change is on the horizon, but I choose to look on it as a positive change.  It's moving time again.  My daughter and I have been living in the house of my former mother-in-law, which has been an adventure in itself as she's gone 'round the twist' a bit these days.  Now her house is being sold, which means finding alternative accommodations.  Considering the last year, in which we've resided in a living hell, this will be a good change.  Sudden, but good.  It'll likely mean finding something that will 'do for now', but at least we won't have to worry about the crazy lady downstairs.

Let me explain the crazy lady and her antics.  Over the last few years she's let herself go quite a bit, both physically and mentally.  She's decided that her only intellectual stimulation should be Jerry Springer and his ilk.  She's said on numerous occasions, because she's forgotten she's said it, that she doesn't want to learn anymore, so Jerry Springer is typical of her tastes.  In the year we've lived in this house, she has decided to kick us out at least once a week, and then turned around and said, "Thank God you're here", which gives a pretty accurate picture of her mental state.

Her anti-depressants aren't working, obviously.  She takes them, I know she does.  She has those blister packs for seniors, so it's the one thing she generally does right for herself.  However, she's diabetic and eats white sugar right out of the bowl, with a spoon.  Then she cries because her legs are burning (that happens when you don't keep your blood sugar under control).  I've told her on multiple occasions that she's not allowed to complain if she's going to keep doing it to herself.  She's asthmatic, but refuses to take her daily green & white inhaler to keep it under control, insisting that she's only supposed to take it as needed.  That's the blue one, not the green one, as I've explained to her at least a hundred times in the last year.  I should know, since I used to go to her appointments with her.  Then I just gave up.

She also managed to let herself go financially.  She doesn't bring in a high enough income to support herself in this house, so it was only a matter of time before she lost it.  Now she'll go into a seniors' building, and will probably have to have someone come by every day to check on her.  I think my ex was hoping I'd be some sort of caregiver for her, which is exactly the opposite of my personality type, especially with someone who refuses to take care of themselves or take responsibility for anything.

To illustrate the extremes she'll go to in order to garner sympathy, I'll give you an example.  This is not an exaggeration in any way.  This is exactly what happened.  Her older son, my former brother-in-law, was over one day.  She told him she was sick, and that nobody was taking care of her.  I simply called out, "Bullshit," from the kitchen, and seeing as I was making her an omelet at the time I had good reason to say that.  Not to mention the fact that when she was asked what was wrong she said she had a sore on her face, which turned out to be a pimple.  Yes, you read that right.  She had a pimple, and was telling her son she was sick and that nobody was looking after her.  Good God!  If I'd said I was sick every time I had a pimple I'd never have held a job more than a day.

Last Christmas, when we were all together, she actually had a cold and was sick.  However, she specifically sat there and moaned, repeatedly.  She told every single one of us that she wanted sympathy.  She repeated it over and over.  It was disgusting.  Never in my life have I actually wanted anyone's sympathy.  Someone I knew a long time ago used to say, "Sympathy is between shit and syphilis" (in the dictionary), and I have to agree.  Empathy would be one thing.  Understanding someone else's plight is something that should be part of the human condition.  Sympathy should be reserved for when someone dies.

So, as you can see, despite the somewhat urgent nature of the situation, there's good reason for me to be looking forward to a change of residence.  My daughter and I get along great, as we're both very much alike, and it's rare for us to have any kind of fight.  We'll get crabby and bitchy sometimes, but neither of us is all that offended by it and we usually just let it slide.  We're thick-skinned and often call one another names as a form of affection.  The fact that we feel free to do so is a good indication of our relationship.  It helps that we're both very solitary people.  We like being alone, so we don't bother one another very much.  We still spend time together, often watching movies, playing with the ferrets, or even just talking, but we're alone more than we're together.  For us that's a good thing.

At this point I don't even care what kind of place we find, because anything is better than being accosted every time I try to eat or make coffee.  We'll go back to living our lives the way we want to live them, rather than working around a person who can't even agree with herself about what she thinks, let alone anyone else.  Now that I've gotten into my writing in a much bigger way, I'll be starting out in a new place already in the habit of going after my dreams, and that sounds like a great start to me.  It only took me 41 years!