Feeling Cocky

So yesterday, I spent my entire lunch break wallerin' Ma around the living room floor. Craziness decided she needed someone to come fix her scooter chair, which has never been used, but has to sit in the middle of the living room, serving no purpose other than something to constantly bang my toes on.

The battery was dead, so they sent someone out to replace it. Ma said she needed it "just in case." She's determined to strap herself in and ride it to town when she has a doctor's appointment.

Keep in mind that of her four limbs, she has one, reasonably well working arm. That's pretty much it. I can't get her big ass scooter chair out the door by myself with all my working parts. I have no idea how she thinks she's going to do it alone. But that's another story.

So I walk in, carrying my BBQ sandwich from the campground store, to find Ma sitting in the floor, batting her eyes and talking all sweet to some hunka pretty manliness from the scooter chair place.

I know what you're thinking.. I must've said, "Oh my goodness!!! Mother!!! Have you fallen?? Here!! Let me help you!!!"

Well.. that's not what happened.

I may or may not have stepped over her and walked to the kitchen, sat down and proceeded to pig out. Because I'm callous and cold hearted like that.

After Prettiness left, the wallerin' commenced. At one point, when I'd gotten her up on her knees and she'd given up, my lunch hour ticking to a close, I told her that the next time she got the bright idea play all Miss Independence, I wanted her to remember just how she felt at that moment and reconsider her decision.

I also told her that if she didn't get her butt out of the floor, I was gonna call the fire department and they'd send the first responders, resulting in a snaggle toothed hillbilly fest where she could get wallered around by some greasy, tobacco stained old men if she'd rather.

No, I was not kind nor was I patient. I told her last week that I'd take her to the doctor. I asked her to please stop calling people to come do crap when she's here by herself. I explained to her that I was not trying to control her or stop her from doing anything, I was only concerned for her safety, after which I was insulted.

So when I came home and found her there, I did not feel sympathy. My back still hurts from carrying my lifeless, yet conscious 90 pound dog to the truck last week. I had spent all yesterday morning listening to my boss slam doors and stand over me demanding, "I need 150K by Monday. Do you have any orders? I need 150K." I am not the sales manager. It took all the self control I had in me to not look him in the beady little eyes and inform him that if he needed sales, perhaps he should get his thumb out of his ass, stop whining, get on the phone and get some.

It's his job. Not mine.

So yeah. I got a little pissy with Ma. But I got her up and back to the bed. I had the Amazon call and check on her and when I got off at three, I brought her some Cokes.

It has been stated, by well meaning co-workers, that perhaps I am developing an attitude problem. My response?

Good. Maybe I need one.

This is reason number 149 why I need a job working from home.

Fingers crossed.

Ya'll have a humparrific Humpday. And seriously.. try to stay out of the floor.

Later Taters!