What a weekend.

I had a 3-day one because I had to go to my followup dental appointment. Once again while I was home, Dad fell out of the bed. (I found out later it was because Mom puts the telephone where he has to get out of bed in order to get it. I said, "It's a cordless! Why can't you leave it IN THE BED WHEN YOU LEAVE SO THIS DOESN'T HAPPEN?") I couldn't pick him up. I couldn't understand a goddamned thing he said all morning. He kept wanting me to come in and would point at something and babble, and I had no idea what he was getting at. I couldn't even reach what he was pointing at at times. This went on for an hour until Mom got home. At one point I just started crying. I kept hoping he wouldn't call me in there because I had no idea what to do.

I really shouldn't be left home alone with him. I am useless.

And Mom asked me to babysit him the first weekend in November while she works at a rotary thing. Oh God. I can't take him to the bathroom, I can't understand anything he says at all, I can't pick him up. What the hell can I DO?

*sigh* The whole handicapped thing is nothing but a nightmare. You know things suck when you look at the clock and it's 2 p.m. and Dad has not been dressed, fed, showered, or toileted yet, and you wanted to get to something by 7 p.m., and you know there's no way in hell you're going to make it by 7. Because it takes THAT LONG to get him out the door.

As for the dentist visit that I took the day off for, I was in there for about 20 minutes, 5 of those with the dentist, who has pronounced me free and clear to eat regular food, and free and clear of dental hell entirely after a week.

Unfortunately, for the next week is The Syringe, where I am to shoot large amounts of prescription mouthwash directly into the holes. I am supposed to do this three times a day. I don't think so. There's no cap on the damned thing, so half the time when filling it my thumb slips and it shoots mouthwash all over the bathroom. Plus, you are NOT supposed to swallow this shit, so what happens when one is shooting large amounts of liquid into the back of your mouth? Major attractive dribble! There is no way in HELL I am doing that in a public restroom with people walking in, I say. Nobody needs to see that sight at work.

After that, we mostly went around doing errands of one type or another. At one point Mom drove by a Breuners, which was going out of sale, and decided she wanted to go in and check beds. She seems to think that if she gets a new one (hers is 24 years old), maybe Dad won't fall out of it. I dunno about that short of getting those hospital bars attached, but whatever. She screeches into their parking lot five minutes before closing time.

As is usual in stores such as these, a salesman was on us like white on rice within 2 minutes of entry. He drags us upstairs to the bed section, where Mom and I both fall madly in love with this one bed. Soooooooooooooft, that's all I have to say about it. $500something in twin, $600something in full, $700something in queen, etc.

We both asked about getting fulls, and he starts immediately giving us shit about it. I mean, very vociferous forceful shit about it. "Full is out of date. That's not a big enough bed for one person alone!" (note: he's speaking to one 5 foot tall chick and one 5'4 chick, and neither of us is particularly wide. It's not as if we can't fit into a twin all by ourselves here.) "You can't FIND beds" (I assume he meant headboards or something) "that are made in full any more. EVERYONE buys queens. EVERYONE. I'm telling you, EVERYONE buys queens." He's also got this story about selling a full bed (against his wishes, of course) to Yan Can Cook, who found he couldn't buy a headboard for the thing and had to take it back and get a queen.

Whether this is true or not, I'm sure the fact that he works on commission had absolutely nothing to do with this statement. Not at all! *cough*.

I couldn't help but think, why should I shell out an extra hundred for a slightly (he also made a biiiiiiiig deal about measuring and how there wasn't much difference in the size) larger bed, which I probably will never buy a headboard for anyway, and I sure as hell don't plan on sharing with anyone? And uh, I've still seen stuff on sale for full sized sheets and things in stores, so what is he talking about? This dude just SO turned me off, you have no idea. I wanted to brain him one. I was so pissed off I actually got into a fight with him, and y'all know by now that I don't fight with non-family very easily!

I. Hate. Salespeople. I hate being Sold To. I hate not being left alone for two seconds to think about something without a salesman breathing over my shoulder. Between that in general and this guy in particular, plus the fact that getting a bed over to my town (nope, they don't deliver out that far, and they whined about delivering to Mom's house) will be a royal fucking pain, I was about ready to just not go back. Mom, on the other hand, had decided that That Guy was right and we should both just suck it up and get queens.

The next day, Mom didn't seem all that rabid to face That Guy again herself, and wanted to go over to Macy's to check out their sale first. Of course, Macy's being Macy's, their idea of a sale is under $2000, and none of their beds were as good, so so much for that. So we dragged ass back to Breuners, where That Guy eventually found us again. Mom ended up buying another bed because of Dad, but I got the dream bed. Which will be a joy to pay her back for (not), but at least I'll like it.

After that, she insisted on going bedsheet shopping and ended up buying me new sheets and comforter and mattress pad and electric blanket and pillows in addition to what she bought for her and Dad. (More to add to my tab.) I'm going to have a pink, purple, and blue bed. Pink comforter, pink and blue sheets, blue electric and pink regular blankets, and purple furry pillows. Oh yeah, it's a CHICK bed.

I can't believe I'm actually excited about getting a new bed. Even if getting it here is going to make us all pull hair out, and I can't get a frame for it for 3 weeks or so because the frames are all in Hurricaneville. Oh well, who knows for sure when I'm moving in to my apartment again anyway, right? (The good news so far is: I have walls. The bad news is: I have no kitchen.)

Other errands for the day included going to a AAA office open house so I could ask about renters' insurance. I also got a free picnic lunch bag for showing up at it, which is ironic considering that I bought two bags a couple of weeks ago at REI. This one's probably bigger and nicer and has more storage than those, too. Oof.

And... Mom is trying to force me into getting a credit card. As in, while we're out, "oh, we're going by the credit union and you're getting a card, honey."

Yeah, I've gone into this before, the whole "I'm terrified to get a credit card because everyone I know with one racked up infinite debt within a week of having the thing and they can't pay it off, and I'm a shopaholic DON'T GIVE ME ONE PLEASE I WILL ABUSE IT" thing.

I'm not sure if Mom really got that. (Course, look at how much she just spent in the above section. 'Nuff said.) Or if she still does. I had to explain many details to this woman about how no, if I apply for a card by myself, I WON'T BE APPROVED FOR ONE, NO, REALLY, I WON'T, I'VE TRIED BEFORE because I have no record of payments on a large item anywhere. I couldn't remember all of my financial information, such as how much I pay in rent (it got upped in September, but the papers saying how much well, drowned, and I haven't paid for this month, have I?) or exactly what my yearly gross is in order to fill out the paperwork. I had to explain why I never got a student card, and why I have no record of anything whatsoever. Mom was quite pissed at me for coming off as a loser to the girl who would (not) approve me for one. Well, uh, she's gonna find out that shit sooner or later, isn't she?

And buying on credit gives me the wiggins. Hell, writing a check larger than my rent gives me the wiggins. Plus there's the dyscalculia thing. This site sums it up: "They are poor with money and credit and cannot do financial planning or budgeting (e.g. balancing a checkbook)." I know I can't handle it. Hell, the only times I could "kinda" balance the checkbook is when I was using Quicken religiously, and even then it got out of hand for me. I really shouldn't be given credit. Even if it fucks me for getting a car and a house (not that I need either), I just don't think I can use it responsibly at all.

Mom and I are currently at a standstill on the credit fight- she's willing to cosign if she has to, but ahem, she lost the form :) So who knows if it'll ever get done here.

On Sunday we finally made it to the Harvest Festival, which made me very happy. I got some jewelry to replace some of my lost jewelry, another beaded hairband and a new necklace, some little dichroic glass bits to try to put into metalsmithing or stained glass pieces, and a massive amount of glass beads. I desperately need to get cracking on auction stuff this year SOON, but I haven't really had much inspiration for non-personal projects going on, plus my life's been all chaotic and shit. But these beads are inspiring. I've got ideas for a blue/pink/white necklace, a blue/pink/green/white necklace, and/or a lime necklace. Oooh, excitement.

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