Some days get to be noteworthy just because of the amount of minutiae you have to deal with. It basically started with my having to clear up a small identity theft matter on one of my credit cards. While the merchant involved, as well as the credit card company, were efficient and understanding, it plopped a bit of unexpected stress in my lap. So, when I see my parents in the morning, I’m not in the best of moods. Naturally, my mother tries to remind my father via me about his upcoming barber appointment, but then TELLS me that I’m then going to take my father to get an ID card.
Tells me. Like she tells my dad, nowadays.
Before she gets up a good head of steam, I cut her off. She then tells me that she’ll be sure to cut me off when I’m talking. I apologize, but it isn’t accepted. I also try to apologize a little later, but again it isn’t accepted. She then over-blows the small glitch and proclaims that she’s never go to ask me to do anything again, and we’ll just have to put my dad in a home, and it’ll take all of their savings, and…well, you get the drift.
Let me preface what I’m going to say next by saying that everyone who knows me knows that I’m a staunch feminist, and my love of the gender is second to none. Even so, I’m constantly amazed at this aspect of women (I should say American women, because my sample is rather limited). The over-dramatic absolutist pronouncement for what is actually a minor infraction. (A relative of this is the "If you don’t know, then I’m not going to tell you," strategy.) I never get this from males…well, maybe a few times from some very flaming gay acquaintances, but on the whole, never from men. I’ve seen it all my life (usually not directed at me, and not exclusively directed at men, either). It just confounds and amazes me.
But I digress. So, we get my dad his haircut and then go get the ID card. Since he’s not allowed to drive anymore and his license was up for renewal, this was the most sensible option. Once more he had to come to terms with not being able to actually do things out in the world unless he has me (or someone) helping him out. I try to be as much in the background as possible, but that’s getting more and more difficult.
Anyway, with that done I’m off to stock up my parent’s larder as well as get the fixins for tonight’s meal, our version of eggplant parmigiana. For the veggie version, I kept improvising as I was cooking. When my brother arrived for dinner, he commented how it was like our veggie lasagna, except without the pasta. Whoops. Not my intent. But it tasted very not bad, so I’m counting it as a success.
So, the hard part of the day is finished. Now it’s back to writer’s work.