Wednesday, August 19, 2009
Bad Day at Black Rock
Usually I try to keep my crying to myself, but today was a bit much.
A series of things, ranging from minor, like the plates with the lunch on them falling out of the refrigerator and smashing hopelessly, to major like an email telling me of the death of a friend from long ago, a talented and wonderful woman I last saw some time ago at a knitting event.
Followed within minutes with a call from our home health agency to say our wonderful aide has quit on us, won't even complete the week. After telling me yesterday she was sick that day but was planning to be back as usual on Thursday and Friday.
To say the latter two were a big blow is putting it mildly. The loss of a friend from your circle, and I've had quite a few of these by this point in life, is so hard to deal with. I keep on thinking of the last time I saw her, how good it was to be in her company again. Way too young to be gone.
And the loss of the aide is a crippling blow to my energy which has been kept up with the, sporadic, admittedly, help from that agency -- it's very hard to recruit and keep good people, and the best ones quickly get overworked --but, oh, gosh, I could hardly talk from disappointment and fear.
I instantly called another agency to get them onto a search. But this is tough. No way to say it in a good humored way. And these are people we're paying out of pocket, and still not able to get and keep them. Endless arrangements that don't stay made.
So I may have to be creative in a different way, and see if I should look for a cleaning service to do the whole house and the laundry, so that my main physical work will be with Andy when we don't have help coming in. It's a better use of funds, maybe. At any rate, I have to keep on juggling.
Meanwhile I thought the facial expression on the battered old turtle I snapped, pun intended (he was a snapper, so I didn't get too close) at the end of the street yesterday, sums up my current feelings about The World and The Hand I've Been Dealt.
And the yarn I've spun up from my dyed fluff, is part of my cure!
not to mention the front yard, which cheers me every time I come back from the mailbox with more bills in my hand...