Saturday, August 15, 2015

In which - wait for it - there is more Sly and Doris drama! And alcohol is involved!

I know. You thought that while Primo was back at home, after Sly's knee surgery and Sly and Doris' dislike of the very nice retired RN (the one who makes soup with "no flavor") who would be perfectly happy to help Sly and Doris with household things for $20 an hour, which they can afford and frankly, is a bargain for someone who is willing to put up with those two, that Sly and Doris would be busy getting their affairs in order and finding either home help or a retirement home.


They have done nothing except now some friends of theirs have moved to a retirement home in Atlanta and now they think that is what they should do but have not done anything beyond saying, "We would like this place," anything like ASKING THE FACILITY WHAT IT COSTS AND IF THERE IS ROOM.

A visit, of course, is out of the question.

Which makes me wonder how they would even move - if they can't even travel to visit a place, how will they move there?

I was just going to gripe about my happy problem that Sly and Doris had finally reimbursed Primo for his travel there - which is excellent -  but had done it by giving him hundred-dollar bills, which is not so excellent, as we are not in the habit of making huge purchases in cash and I am very reluctant to ask a cashier to break a hundred for a $4 coffee. I have been a cashier. It stinks when someone wipes out your cash drawer.

So I was going to gripe about the hundreds (but fake griping because yahoo! they are finally paying!) but now I have something real to gripe about.

Primo woke up this morning to a phone message from his brother Ted.

Someone had to go to the ER last night.

That's all he said.

I was all cranky at Ted for not being more detailed, but then I learned that he got a message from Jack, the other brother, which said about the same thing.

So Primo called his mom and dad and discovered that last night, Sly fell. Sly weighs 260 lbs. He asked Doris, who weighs 110 lbs (5'9") to help him up.

"He should have known better than that!" I said.

Primo answered, "Ted talked to him last night about ten and he was drunk. I suspect his judgment was still impaired."

Sly asks Doris to help him up.

She tries.

He falls.

On her.

On her knee.

Her knee is so painful they call an ambulance. The EMTs get Sly up (your tax dollars at work!) and take Doris to the ER.

"She didn't even get into a room," Primo said. "She thinks they have her on a list because they sued the hospital last year."

They did an x-ray or a scan and discovered nothing broken. Sent her home at 4 a.m. in a taxi.

She is - how do I put this? - incapable of toileting herself. Last time Primo was there, he got a potty chair down from the attic.

(Note to self: Ask Primo why his parents 1. own a potty chair and 2. moved it from where they used to live, assuming they didn't buy it where they live now.)

However - she did not have the potty chair.

She had a small wastebasket.

Which she used.

Mostly successfully.

Primo will be going there again in three days (on April 13). "I guess this is why I needed to get the taxes done before April 15th," he said. "In case something like this came up."

Thursday, August 13, 2015

In which Primo suggests a new career direction and I just about pass out

Primo: So my friend John really wants to start a beer bar.

Me: That's  nice.

Primo: I am really  interested in working with him on it.

Me: We are not going to invest money in a beer bar.

Primo: Why not?

Me: Because most small businesses fail. Because restaurants are even  more risky than most small businesses. How much money did your parents lose on Jack's restaurant?

Primo: That's different. You are using my parents as an example of what not to do. I would not do it wrong like they did.

Me: We spent $20,000 on your campaign.

Primo: See, that's what I would be talking about -  not the $200,000 my parents lost on the restaurant.

Me: Are. You. Kidding. Me? You really think it would be a good idea TO BLOW TWENTY THOUSAND DOLLARS ON A BAR?

Primo: Who says it would be blown?

Me: Oh. My. God.

Primo: It could work.

Me: If I am going to blow twenty grand, I am going to get plastic surgery or take some fabulous trips.

Primo: It's just an idea.

Tuesday, August 11, 2015

In which Ted, who was 22, at the time, takes Nancy, who was 13, to a pot party

Oh yes he did.

He was old enough to know better.

He took a 13 year old to a pot party.

I think that tells you all you need to know about him.

Sunday, August 9, 2015

In which Sly and Doris' main criteria for assisted living is a heated pool with water aerobics

Primo has been trying to get Sly and Doris to move to assisted living for years and they keep saying they don't need it and they don't like the places around them anyhow because you have to wear shoes when you are in the dining room and they want water aerobics and some of these places don't even have a pool, etc, etc.

Sly also mused that perhaps they should just find a pied a terre in Brooklyn. Wouldn't that be nice? An urban environment close to the arts where they could walk to the coffee shop.

If that's what was important to them, why on earth did they move to the generic suburbs in [warm state with no state income tax, even though they think everyone else should pay more taxes]? The nearest major urban area a la Brooklyn is eight hours away.

Then Sly said there is this place in Atlanta where some friends of theirs have moved and perhaps they should move there. Primo thought that at least in Atlanta, he would be able to get a direct flight and not have to rent a car to drive an hour to their place.

But it has gone no further than that. They will find a reason not to like it - You mean there is no open bar every night? There are no cabana boys to wave peacock feathers over them as they nap by the infinity pool? You mean there is no breakfast in bed? You mean laundry is  not handwashed in Perrier and rolled on the plump thighs of virgins?