It's Just Me, Nobody Important.

As my mother aged, my family grew and my life got complicated, the attention I gave my elderly mother became less and less. Sometimes I would even  groan when she called me and then I'd avoid her call. So she'd leave a message saying, "It's just me, nobody important. It's just your mother, don't bother worrying, I'll be OK."  Which made me feel guilty, but at the same time was kind of pathetic and now after she has left this world, my wife and I have a good laugh reminiscing my mother's quirks and mannerisms.  Not out of disrespect, but out of adoration for her cute ways.

Anyhow, I've been working for forty solid days in a row and two weeks ago I pulled my back out moving a huge metal shelving unit from around the nineteen fifties. Still, I had to continue due to the fact the gas company would not hook up the guys furnace until a furnace room was built around it to code. Fire rated drywall is a bitch to handle and it needs two layers. I "goterdone", as they say here in the valley, but it was one of the worse gruelling, painful things I have ever done. Then again it's just me, nobody important.

This week, still under extreme pain I had to sound proof a basement ceiling, caulk the joists where it meets the deck, install resilient channel, apply 12 foot sheets of drywall and then fit cove moulding all around. This was a job that was set up a while ago for an older lady who was going in for surgery and felt it necessary to perform the work for her healing process.  I agree, there is a home based child care centre upstairs. That surgery is tomorrow and I am happy to report the work has been completed. 

Of course, still in pain, more like a sciatica nerve pain all day in my leg just driving me nuts, I earlier agreed, about a month ago, to perform some work for a seriously disabled boy while he was away. That week is next week, so at least I will have this weekend to rest, but I doubt I will heal by Monday. My wife is sighing about my long hours and how I'm never there for her or that she never gets out. I look at her with a grin,  mimicking  her, using a slight French accent like my mother and said, "Mon petite chou. It's OK, it's just me, nobody important". All embarrassed, she turns away. Then I hear her start to laugh and say, " Oh, how I miss your mother, she was so adorable."

Uploaded 11/08/2012
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