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When it doesn't rain, it pours
Apr. 12th, 2021 11:04 pmMum had a bad couple of days; her knee caused her a great deal of pain. It isn't the leg she recently broke, though; it is the other one that has been bothering her for at least a decade or so. She always tried to spare it, but now that her "good" leg is still on the mend, she had to strain the bad one more. She didn't sleep much for two days and finally today she gave in and accepted the painkillers. Fortunately, we got the good stuff prescribed by her rheum doctor and now she's somewhat better.
The cleaning lady was here today, and while dusting one of the book cabinets that are mounted on the wall - directly over the headboard of Mum's bed - we discovered that the thing is slightly moving. We checked the other one, thinking that it's just a natural adjustment, but the other one stands like Mount Zion, so there has to be a problem. I dragged Mum's bed out from under the book cabinet and called the carpenter who originally made it; unfortunately, the man just had a work-related accident and is out of commission. Our janitor promised to drop by in a few days and take a look. Until then we're supposed to wait and pray. I emptied out the cabinet, to lessen the strain on any hypothetically weakened screws and we hope that it will hold until someone comes and does something about it.
Needless to say that the poor living room now looks like a fugitive camp. Mum was already slightly depressed by the fact that her room loo and walking aid had to be kept in there all the time. Now she's downright upset. She's the kind of person for whom the pristine state of the flat is very important. Now we have also large piles of books stapled in the corner of the living room, and all the knick-knacks she kept in that cabinet are spread all over every available surface - not a pretty sight for sure. But some things just can't be helped.
I'm not happy about all the extra mess and work, either. Still, as long as the dratted cabinet doesn't fall down onto our heads, I'm not complaining... too much.
The cleaning lady was here today, and while dusting one of the book cabinets that are mounted on the wall - directly over the headboard of Mum's bed - we discovered that the thing is slightly moving. We checked the other one, thinking that it's just a natural adjustment, but the other one stands like Mount Zion, so there has to be a problem. I dragged Mum's bed out from under the book cabinet and called the carpenter who originally made it; unfortunately, the man just had a work-related accident and is out of commission. Our janitor promised to drop by in a few days and take a look. Until then we're supposed to wait and pray. I emptied out the cabinet, to lessen the strain on any hypothetically weakened screws and we hope that it will hold until someone comes and does something about it.
Needless to say that the poor living room now looks like a fugitive camp. Mum was already slightly depressed by the fact that her room loo and walking aid had to be kept in there all the time. Now she's downright upset. She's the kind of person for whom the pristine state of the flat is very important. Now we have also large piles of books stapled in the corner of the living room, and all the knick-knacks she kept in that cabinet are spread all over every available surface - not a pretty sight for sure. But some things just can't be helped.
I'm not happy about all the extra mess and work, either. Still, as long as the dratted cabinet doesn't fall down onto our heads, I'm not complaining... too much.
