Day 28 - LA County moves into yellow tier
I finished this book today…
5/30/21. Sunday.
I wake up at 6:00, then 8:00, and listen to Organize 365 both times.
9:45-10:30 – I’m up and I go downstairs to greet the animal. She’s on the couch, but rolls over on her back so I can rub her tummy three times. She grabs her toy and we go outside. She runs around the yard, doing nothing, while I stand there, waiting, until she finally poops; however, she can only do one thing at a time, so once we’re inside the house, we have to repeat the entire process so she will go potty, too.
-I left a lot of dishes in the sink last night, so I have kitchen duty this morning.
10:30-11:45 – I finish What We Carry:
This is a memoir written by Maya Lang, an Indian author, who has to care for her Indian mother, a former psychiatrist, after she develops Alzheimer’s. The book is interesting in that the author’s memory of her mom as a selfless mother, who always put her children first, is deeply flawed, similar to Alzheimer’s patients’ flawed memories. It’s almost as if mother and daughter are sharing the same disease...
Before Alzheimer’s has begun to affect her mother, Maya, the author, who is married, gets pregnant and has a baby. She suffers from postpartum depression and wonders how she can possibly keep her writing career going while at the same time caring for a baby. The author turns to her Mom for advice and help and asks how she (the mother) was able to care for two young children as a young doctor, first in medical school and then residency. Throughout the author’s entire life, her mother has always responded, “I don’t know…I just did it”, but it is only after her mother is diagnosed with Alzheimer’s that she freely admits she gave her 1-year-old son [Maya’s older brother] to her parents who live in India, even though her mother was married [to Maya’s father, who is an abusive, horrible prick] and Maya’s father is gainfully employed as an engineer]. Maya’s mother doesn’t see her son for the next 4 years. He is 5-years-old when he returns to the States.
Lest you not understand entirely what I’m telling you, Maya’s mother doesn’t see her son for FOUR years because he is living in India. This is why she is able to complete medical school and a residency program [It is unclear why Maya’s parents didn’t hire a nanny or explore daycare facilities - I don’t get it.]. She hides this fact from her daughter for her entire life, although the son was well aware of the family history.
Additionally, Maya’s mother told the author, repeatedly, throughout her life, that she came to America to give her children a better future. After the Alzheimer’s diagnosis, Maya’s mother freely admits that she had always planned to return to India and her beloved caste system [sarcasm here], where she was treated like a queen by a multitude of servants. She had no intention of giving her children a better life in America, but, somehow, ended up stuck in the States - it just happened.
As the memoir unfolds, the author/daughter comes to the sickening realization that her mother is actually incredibly selfish, cares very little about her children, and has no empathy. The author makes this point rather starkly towards the end of the book. While the mother is losing her mind, the daughter is gaining hers, to include clarity into her own childhood. Some of this newfound clarity is unpleasant. Highly recommend.
11:45 – 1:00 – Blog posts.
1:00-2:00 – I have the quiche I made a few days ago and read a Money Diary..
2:30-5:30 – I ordered 6 black crates from a quasi-farm company and they arrived yesterday. I say quasi-farm company because the crates are plastic and the only thing this vendor does is make plastic crates, even thought the name of the business is “Farmplasty.” I move the 6 crates into the garage and, slowly but surely, I pull all of the boxes containing our Halloween and Xmas decorations down from the metal shelving suspended from the ceiling.
I’m not sure how many times I go up and down the ladder, but it’s exhausting and my legs feel shaky afterwards. Once the boxes of decorations are down, I repackage them in the new crates, then hoist everything back up to the metal shelving. The result is a more uniform, aesthetically pleasing look. Previously, the shelves contained an array of various-sized cardboard boxes that looked disorganized; now there are 6 black, symmetrical crates. Unfortunately, it appears I need 3 more crates because I still have a few decorations left that need to be repackaged. Note: I end up ordering them tomorrow. I listen to This American Life and The Cost of Care.
5:30-6:15 – I take the dog for a walk. I listen to Turning.
6:15-7:30 – Using the screws that B. shot into the wall on Friday, I create a trellis out of green wire for my potted jasmine and train the vines. I listen to AirTalk.
7:30-8:00 – A few bites of quiche and then I set up everything for more garage painting.
8:00-12:00 – I cut in for most of the right side of the garage, then paint the bottom lip of the wall. I wear knee pads, rubber gloves, and double-mask because it is absolutely filthy this close to the garage floor, no matter how many times I’ve swept and hosed it down. I am sick. of. painting. I listen to Organize 365 and Turning.
12:00-1:00 – Kitchen duty and I prepare lots of snacks for tomorrow: 1) cucumbers and tomatoes; 2) a few pieces of Sees Candy that L. bought a couple days ago; 3) apple slices and almond butter; and 4) walnuts and chocolate chips. I ready my coffee for tomorrow.
1:00-2:00 - I won’t be around tomorrow so I really need to check email at College No. 2. I field a few responses, then start working on the two Discussion Board posts that are due in my French Cinema class by midnight tomorrow. I’m indisposed tomorrow, so everything has to be submitted tonight. I finish the posts, then submit.
2:00-3:00 – I prepare a script for the 2-minute video assignment that I have to record tomorrow morning for my French Cinema class.
3:00-4:00 – Nighttime routine. Bed. I listen to more Film Week on Air Talk and set the alarm for 8:00 a.m.