The
Homesteader has decided to let us live with her in her new home. She
cleverly made friends with Mom thus assuring my inability to control the
situation. In fact, once Mom goes to sleep at night, Mom's chair
becomes her place to sleep. And she spends most mornings with her in
her room. Loves the sunlight, watching the bird feeder, carousing among
the indoor plants, connecting with the Hospice
folks. I have become powerless. And as always she is more than happy
to let me know her opinions on everything. Regardless of the time of
day--or night. My new standing in the house: lap provider, can opener,
patient listener, and general unpaid lackey. Once upon a time many,
many years ago I was the lord of the Acres. Then, I slid into second
place behind the Matriarch. Now, I'm third. And it's not even a close
third. Merely, a tolerated third as long as I "keep my place" without
complaining. I'm lucky she's not on facebook.
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