That’s my scream of frustration as I try to get my mom to start packing. Her apartment is a bottomless pit of scraps of fabric and paper; hats from the 50s; shoes he doesn’t wear; little boxes filled to the top with assorted paper clips, bits of string, nails, rusted washers, broken pencils, dried up pens………. But she watches so that I don’t thow anything out.
The packed boxes are piling up. I have no idea where she thinks they’re going to fit in the smaller space into which we’ll be moving.
I’m just tired of arguing.
And I still have my own packing to do.

4 thoughts on “aaarrrgghh!

  1. She’s got to sleep sometime. Can you sneak in and…
    Or, sell her on the idea of a garage sale. Tell her she can collect the money. And watch as she doesn’t get any. Ho ho.
    Or, ask her to write you a check with one of the dried up pens. Point out it won’t be like spending any money because the pen won’t make any marks. And the joke will be on Elaine. Ho ho.
    Or, keep smiling.

  2. Actually, I have gone in when she was in the bathroom and removed stuff to throw out. Last time it was seven large empty coffee tins. Yes, I’m smiling.
    Garage sale? No thanks. That’s just more work for me. I hate doing garage sales worse than I hate packing up junk!!!
    Thanks for the moral support. I’ll do what I have to do and keep venting. Works for me.

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