Featherbeds and featherheads
Stopped in to see mom on Friday and had to wake her from a dead sleep, which scared the hell out of me. The alarm went off and I spoke to the alarm company and she still hadn’t woken up. I noticed she had a beautiful gold bedspread and pillowcases and asked her if they were new. She said no, but her featherbed was new. She said, “I thought I could get it on myself but I ended up having to have Yanni and one of the boys from downstairs help me.”
Then she showed me where Yanni had burned a hole in her dining room chair cushion and had knocked over the scale and busted the glass.
What goes on? I thought to myself. And later, I told T, it’s like the Assisted Living thru Alcohol home over there. Lord today!