I wasn't sure if this was the right house when I first walked up the pathway to the house . It looked like an abandoned house with weeds growing everywhere. Yet judging from the shoe rack outside of the front door (such a Chinese way) I gathered it must be the right house. I was also tired from driving two days straight. I tried to find the doorbell. None to be seen. I knocked on the door and a young man showed up. I told him I was going to stay here starting today. He let me in, telling me Judy, the owner, wasn't there. I unloaded things on my shoulder in "my room" after he disappeared to his. The big trunk was so heavy that I had to unzip it downstairs, take some stuff out and carry them to upstairs, then dragged the lighter trunk upstairs one step at a time, while hoping the wooden stairs was hardy enough to take the bumping of the trunk on every step. No gentlemanly help needed -- nor was it offered.
I counted five bedrooms upstairs. There might be more downstairs. It didn't take long to unpack, although the plan was to stay here for three months. Just have to do laundry diligently and ignore following the fashion etiquette. I should be fine.
The bed is hard as cement. WiFi password left in my room by an unknown person didn't work.
I text Judy: There's only a box spring on the bed..no mattress! My bony bones can't take it. :)
Judy: It is a mattress. It's the Asian style and it's good for your back. I will find something for you to use on top of it.
Me: The WiFi password doesn't work.
Judy: I will send you a picture of the password.
What is it with Asians and the cement beds? I slept on one after mom moved back to Canada, and my back was so achy that I had to give it to my neighbors (they were going to use it as a box spring, appropriately) and buy a new mattress.
The password picture never came. I bothered the guy once more. Got a glimpse of his bedroom. Huge king sized bed with the only TV in the house. Hmmm. He confirmed there was one digit off.
Off to mom's. She seemed to be better than last time I saw her three weeks ago. The companion, Doreen, wasn't sure at times if she was going to be here much longer, which was what prompted this long trip.
Doreen asked her: Aren't you happy your daughter is here?!
Mom: Nothing...to be...happy...about.
Thanks, mom. Even in your half-lucid way you managed to make people feel great.
I don't take it seriously anymore. She can't help it, and I'm doing this for myself. I don't want her to go through this last leg of her journey by herself -- whether she likes it or not.
That is, for as long as I can take it. Our last experiment didn't go so well.
