Weekly Log - 23 through 01

Monday Feb 23

Monday is Murphy's way of saying "Goodnight Irene". My old girl (the PS2) is very slowly dying. I spent a good deal of time today trying to start a new game of Dark Cloud 2, to no avail. The DVD was so scratched it was impossible to bypass the first credits. It's a circular series of scratches, actually, and I think I know what's making it. The stripe which moves the laser reader back and forth sticks out and I fucks up the game. Plus, the old girl is no spring chicken, that laser is bound to have issues. I tried cleaning up the DVD, that missed. Crow.

Then I popped in Silent Hill: 0rigins: between the death run of the first instance of Dark Silent Hill and the last boss of the game, the game froze. Amongst a lot of cursing, I managed to clean it enough to bypass the problem. My afternoon was spent getting the Bad ending and the Alien ending. Hello Butcher Cleave, hello Tesla Rifle, hello getting a few more Accolades and completing this little sucker.

I thought this was it for Monday, but there's more. Going out to run some errands, there was no money in the two ATM closer to here. I tried to use the card at my corner Kwik-e-Mart, the fuckin' thing wouldn't go. Adding insult to injury, I forgot my house keys. For the first time, the ATM card proved useful: I used it to open the door.

Tuesday Feb 24

When Grandma woke up today, she was and looked fine. Around nine, her right side became paralyzed and she seized up. We dialed emergency and got her on an ambulance, my Mum went along. Tuesday started up nice huh? If I didn't know any better, I'd say they're trying to change the canon unlucky day to Tuesday because they know I'm onto them.

Around midday, Mum came back with some news. Apparently, Grandma had an accident with a blood clot, what you call a thrombus according to the dictionary definition. She takes medication to keep her blood flowing because she has a tendency for clots. It may be related to the pills we found hidden in the bed the other day: she stopped taking her medication, and bam...

Mum returned to the hospital later on, but that was about it: her right side is gonna remain paralyzed, she isn't speaking but that may change eventually, and her coordination's gone to the smithereens.

Wednesday Feb 25

Still nothing new on Grandma. Mum went to the hospital to see her, apparently they're running tests but... well. Dad called to tell me I should prepare for the worst. It's probably a bad time to discuss this, but what exactly does he mean by "the worst"? What would qualify as "the worst" to you, out of these two options: living a few more years half paralyzed and unable to talk, or what most people think of as "the worst"? The rest of your natural life without being able to nod for the song on the radio, get a glass of water for yourself when you're thirsty, watching daytime television, not being able to wipe your own ass? I'd rather not think about it...

Thursday Feb 26

Status quo, and not the band. Same shit different day. I spent most of my day looking over job ads to try and do something with my time. Data operator would be nice, secretary would be nice, counter clerk would be very nice... I'm considering street swiping. Really. It's an outdoors job, the hours are nice, the pay isn't lousier than a regular call center and you get this nice cart to sweep dog crap onto and hang stuff from. Plus you can smoke whenever you want, curse at will, have your headphones on during work hours and they give you a green hat to boot. Oh crow, Murphy, give me a fraggin' break: please, not call center operator. Anything but call center operator. I'm desperate for a job at this time, but please, not call center operator. My idea of Hell is eight hours sitting on a fucked-up chair, with headphones on, being forced to call every asshole in the national territory who own a phone and time to spare. If you don't know how it is, think of every seemingly retarded individual you know who owns a phone, and you'll probably get an idea. I can put up with difficult bosses and idiot co-workers. But when every single bitch or bastard you need to contact with on a regular day needs a flamin' lobotomy...

The only thing that's actually funny about call centers is tales of the help desk crew. The sort that get calls, instead of making them. Man that oughta be frustrating, more so than sales, but they have some of the best after-work beer tales I've ever heard.

Friday Feb 27

The Addams family is trying to decide what to do about Grandma. It's pretty obvious that if she needed supervision in the past, things will be even rougher from now on. Everyone seems pretty keen on getting her under professional healthcare, but they don't seem to be understanding how much that costs, and the fact most of us are flat broke. We were having budget issues taking care of her at home ourselves. Grandpa says he's broke, my Uncle is close... I don't know how we're gonna do this, frankly. I punched some numbers, according to the fees charged on the home where my Mum works. With extras (diapers, lotions, the works), Grandma's stay for a year costs over seven big ones. That's about 620 euros a month. Holy shit.

There was also a plan to put her in Auntie's house, but I don't think this is a very good idea either. Auntie has trouble taking care of herself sometimes, let alone be in charge of another person.

Weekend Feb 28 - Mar 01

Mnhe. Stale weekend. Mum did severe overtime: eight to eight, both days of this weekend. No news about Grandma yet, everything's the same.