Three's company too

A long weekend is usually a time to relax and enjoy oneself, but I was actually pretty glad to get back to work today. While my naturally sedentary tendencies generally clamour, which is to say mildly express desire for something like this, something just seemed off this weekend. Maybe it's the fact that for the first time in my life I truly love my job. Maybe it was the uncomfortably warm weather on Monday or the fact that after Saturday my aunt and cousin weren't in town anymore. But it was probably the part where I had to help my grandparents move.

After my grandma's accident in the spring, her reduced mobility and both grandparents' imminent need for additional care meant their seniors-only independent living apartment building wasn't really appropriate anymore. This meant a move to a semi-independent living building, and just our luck there was one in a new development in our end of town. Unfortunately, a series of absurd regulations (who gives adult tenants a mandatory dress code?) meant that they had to settle for a smaller apartment in a building closer to their previous location. That's good, right? It's less distance to move everything and besides, do they really need all that extra space? They're provided with all their meals if they want, so they don't need a kitchen and as long as there are channels for my grandmother's walker to move through it's all good, right?

Not a chance in Hell, apparently.

It turns out that my grandma has spent the bulk of her adult life amassing posessions she no longer uses but can't bear to part with. She's also trying to maintain control in the only way she can, by making demands about furniture placement that can't actually be met. This was bad enough on the weekend; my dad is absolutely burnt out from three days of yelling and tension. I made it out relatively unscathed, with a few evenings put in, but my family's still dealing with the aftermath, which meant that even the last two days of the long weekend were spent simply recouperating. Do you know how many times a stressed out 89 year-old man can accidentally pull out the phone, cable and internet cables over the course of two days? Despite them being taped together and to the wall to make sure it doesn't happen again? Despite constant requests to leave it alone?

You'd be surprised.