Pooped

So as day three comes to a close I finally find myself in a place where I can actually sit down and take a breather, in fact I plan on taking a breather until sometime tomorrow afternoon.  I just spent the last three days with help from the hubby and my most favouritest daughter (FD) packing up my mom's place, dragging it all into a cargo trailer, unpacking some of the stuff into a new nursing home, then carting the rest of the stuff to FD's place, sleeping for four hours, waking up and transferring the stuff from the cargo trailer to the house (where it will reside until we can sort it) then going back to the nursing home and arranging it so it looks like a mini version of her old home, then going to the hospital and getting her discharged, then taking her to the home and having all the papers signed, then taking care of her meds, and then starting the process of trying to get her un-institutionalized (she has only been in the hospital for two months but has already started down that road in a big way).  Truly, and utterly, I cannot believe that we are finally at this stage.  Fingers crossed that all goes well!  At least she is loving it, and loving being out of the hospital and in her new digs. 

Next will be the hell that is her paperwork.  You see my mom has the organizational skills of a raven building a nest.  When I open a box she has packed I am no longer surprised at what I find.  It could contain a box of expired batteries, a half a doughnut, seven postcards tied with twine, an old shoe, two pencils which have been chewed by badgers, a small plastic doll, fourteen copies of a print out of a picture of salad someone sent her on an email, $1.13 in change which has been carefully placed in a sandwich bag, my kindergarten mid-term report card, a copy of her citizenship papers, a can of soup, another slightly larger can with the label missing, two balls of yarn, and a tooth.  And don't even for a second think that I am exaggerating for effect here...because I can most certainly assure you that I am not.  And her entire house is like that!  We have divided the boxes into three categories, 1) must be sorted through with a fine tooth comb, 2) probably have to sort through with a fine tooth comb, but could just be a box of yarn, 3) for sure do not have to sort through it because it is a chair...or a foot stool.  Guess which pile is the biggest?

Now me, I'm more the, "Did you find that spatula in that drawer?  I can answer that question for you.  No you did not.  Because if you were to look in the drawer underneath you would find another two which are similar to that one, and that should be a big clue to you when putting stuff away." You see I got this thing about wanting to be able to find my shit on a regular basis.  I am a huge proponant of always putting stuff back in the same place every time you use it.  I am also a big fan of putting stuff in logical places.  I find it saves much aggravation, annoyance, and time.  For example I hang clothes in the closet, I fold underwear and put it away in the same drawer ALL THE TIME, when I use the suntan lotion I always return it to the same basket I keep the other suntan lotion in.  I put toilet paper in the bathroom, I put printer paper in my desk, I always put paid phone bills in a file marked, phone bills, I store laundry detergent in the laundry room. 

My dad was just as bad about this kind of shit as my mom is, so really the only explanation for me being a bit on the organized side is that obviously I was adopted.  Anyway enough ranting and more sleeping, this girl is pooped so it off to my bed, which by the way, has hospital corners.