Why Not Just Do Everything? A Halloween Horror Story

Goldie

Why Not Just Do Everything? A Halloween Horror Story

Goldie
h'ween1Halloween. The kids had invited us to join them for a pot luck dinner before they went trick or treating. Perfect. We would celebrate my husband's birthday at the same time. It would be a little tight as our dance club was hosting party in the evening, but we could go and be back in plenty of time for the dance. Our daughter had even helped me come up with a costume and had offered to do the make-up.

It was all planned. Saturday morning, I went and got my hair cut. Then as soon as I got home and walked into the house, the phone rang. There went the plans. It was my dad. Mom needed to get out of "that place" and do something. Was I going to the store? Could I take her somewhere? My brain, which doesn't like to switch gears too quickly, tried to figure out the timing. It was noon. Pot luck at 5. Dance at 7. Okay, I can still do this.

I offered to bring them over to our house for lunch. No. They didn't want that. How about after lunch? They could stay for the potluck and I could take them home on my way to the dance? Okay, might just work. I would pick them up at 1:30. Put down the phone and grabbed a few mini Milky Way bars.

Got my folks in the car and went through the gymnastics of putting two roller walkers into the trunk. It involved a lot of jumping, pushing, taking them out and trying a different way, and swearing. They had gone in there together once before, but they weren't going to this time. I swore again as I tried to take one walker out for the third time. It was stuck. I pulled and pushed and wriggled and it finally popped out--all of a sudden. Maybe I should have paid attention to that but for the moment I was just relieved. I put it in the backseat with my dad and we were off.

Back at our house, it was nearly 2:30. I had underestimated the time it took to get their meds from the nurse and load the car. Got the walkers out of the car and trunk and ... oops... one wheel fell off. The *pop* getting out of the trunk had taken off one of the bolts. Mom and I hobbled in on three wheels. She made it to the couch and stayed there. Dad followed. My husband found another bolt and fixed the walker. I finished the cake I was baking, put it in the oven, and sat down to visit.

Mom talked about wanting to go to the storage unit and pick up her stuff. She wanted to see her car. She needs to go shopping for shoes. She still can't find her teeth. Dad nodded off in the big chair. By 4:00, Mom had decided she needed to go back home. She was tired and didn't feel like staying for the potluck.

H'ween2

Whooshed back home, got the cake, piled into the car, waited...waited...waited for our daughter to join us, and got to the potluck at 5:30. Grandkids had already eaten and were getting antsy to leave for trick or treats. We had a quick bowl of soup and the kids took off. We'll only go around two blocks, they said. Then we'll have Grampa's birthday cake.

Okay. I can be late for the dance. It'll work. To make a long story a wee bit shorter, they got back at 7:20, we sang and blew out candles, ate cake, and got home at 7:55. I hurriedly put on my costume--forget the make-up--and drove to the dance, dropping our younger son downtown on the way. Looked for a parking space for 20 minutes and finally parked in a restricted lot. Glad I had my handicapped plates--I figure they're less likely to tow me. Got there at 8:30, danced two dances and everyone was saying goodnight. It ended at 9:00.

This is what I do. T'is no one's fault, but mine. Some day, maybe I'll learn.