Do you ever wonder if you’re being followed? Or at the very least, feel like you’re being observed? I do.
It all started with the Daily Post last Thursday. The word of the day was “obvious.” I follow their prompts on my fiction blog, so that day I wrote a post entitled “Obvious.” Obviously. It’s a very short fiction piece about a car accident. You can find it here. The next day – Friday – the Daily Post prompt was “witness.” Hey, that’s handy, I thought. I’ll just write a part two for Thursday’s post. Here you have “Obvious, Part 2.”
When the prompt came up on Saturday, and the word of the day was “mistake,” I was tempted to keep going on my little car accident story, but I didn’t. Instead I wrote about a cheating husband. So what happened? Today’s one-word prompt on the Daily Post is “cheat.”
It was 5:37pm last night. I had just finished my dinner and settled Alex in front of the computer. I breezed into the kitchen to retrieve a glass of wine (because that’s how I move about my house – if I’m not breezing, I’m flitting. Unless I’m tired, in which case I trudge) when the lights flickered and …poof!
I said a bad word. Then I put my wine glass down on the counter and went back to get a screaming Alex out of the computer room. (Yes, I have a computer room. It used to be a bedroom, but six bedrooms seemed to be overkill.)
After I felt around for the barbecue lighter in the cupboard, and lit a couple of candles, I checked out my front window. Exactly what I thought: no rain, no snow, no wind … no reason for a power outage. But there I was on a dark street but for the soft glow shining through my neighbour’s curtains – they too had lit candles.
When I looked out my back window on the other hand, my back door neighbour’s house was lit up like a Christmas tree. I could see them looking out of their back window and I could imagine them saying, Oh look, that entire street is out of power! Then they probably poured themselves a nice steaming cup of coffee from their electrically charged coffeemaker and proceeded to laugh at my powerless plight.
Meanwhile, Alex was getting restless. You should have played a game with him! you’re all saying to yourselves. But I had other fish to fry. Or would have, had my stove been working. My cell phone was fully functional however. My next door neighbour seemed to be in a panic, texting me things like OMG and The power’s out! I asked her if she was okay, and if she’d like to come over but she assured me she was fine. Oddly enough, she texted me for the entire hour and a half that the power was out and then abandoned me to other pursuits as soon as it came back on. (If you’re reading this, Nancy, you’re the best neighbour I’ve ever had! Let’s do coffee soon!)
Forgotten by Nancy, I found my other son, Chris emerging from his room where had surely been shivering under the covers – he hates the dark. He announced that although the lights were back on, he would forgo his shower and take it in the morning instead.
You never know when the power’s going to go out, after all.
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I had no idea that it was a ‘thing,’ but apparently, with senile dementia comes paranoia. As my mother ages I’m thinking more and more that I need to research the stages, before she goes through them.
Last night she told be that she had been talking to her sister, six years her senior, on the phone and that her sister is losing her mind. My mother loves to complain about anything, but when it comes to her siblings, nothing has ever been more delightful to her than being superior to them. Being an only child I can only assume that this is a result of early childhood bullying, or simply being told what to do, since my mother is the youngest of five.
Anyway, she was gleefully informing me about how her sister had related the same thing story times in the space of five minutes, and then the subject of my mother’s apartment came up. To backtrack a bit, before my mom moved to town, I lived in her apartment since I hadn’t found a place of my own. Her apartment came available on the market, so I bought it. Then when her old house sold, she bought my house and I moved out of her apartment the day she moved in. Confused yet? Just keep going.
She forgets that she came to visit me when I lived in her apartment. She swears up and down that she never saw the place before the day she moved in. When I tried to remind her last night, she not only denied it, she told me that I was the one who was losing my mind, not her – she’s obviously worried about it even if she won’t admit it.
What really got under my skin, and is worrying me, is that she accused me of saying she saw her apartment before she moved in just to make her think she is going crazy – like I’m doing it maliciously.
I’m getting close to the point where I’m going to have to move her into a place where she can have assisted living. Not a nursing home, necessarily, but a retirement home at least. She wants to move in with me, but I just can’t handle it. My children have to come first, as well as my own health. She is just too much work.
I’m just afraid if I wait too much longer, she’ll think I hate her. This paranoia thing is really scary.
Have you ever noticed that sometimes the horoscope in the paper is spot-on and sometimes it misses the mark by a mile? Well mine has me worried.
For about a week now, astrologer Eugenia Last has been telling me, and all other Aquarians, to watch our backs. The messages say we shouldn’t let ourselves be talked into anything we don’t want, to not allow anyone to manipulate us, and yesterday, not to trust anyone with our secrets.
A day of being told someone is out to get me is bad enough, but after my Incredible Adventure on my Paper Route the last week, and the comments that I just may be on my own version of the Truman Show, I’m starting to get a little paranoid.
Here’s a random picture, to throw off whoever’s out to get me
lindaghill.com 