We got this new contraption that lifts my mom up out of her chair and we can sling her around to put her on other things. It's like a hammock on a dolly. I'm pretty sure ancient indians had something like this to tote around their tribal leader.
I wrapped the hammock under her, snapped her in and then cranked her up so she was floating. She wasn't crazy about it but you know what is crazy about it? My freaking sore arms. It's so fun that I brought her into my bedroom and cranked her up almost to the ceiling and then swung her around like she was out over the San Francisco harbor, and then lowered her down onto the world's highest bed.
We took a nice nap there, or she did while I walked around wondering what happened to my life. Like I was looking at the burned out wreck of my living room like what happened man. I used to live here. I used to have plans. Now I don't know what to do, I can't see past my tv and I have watched almost every murder show now to see how it ends up. How does it end? I've been busy watching a person die. Being in Death's Waiting Room. Waiting for our number.
On a good note, I have also watched almost every Little House on the Prairie.
Anyway I decided with Nathan what if we hoisted Mom up on the swingy hammock and put her in different places in the house. On the mantel. On top of the refrigerator. Elf on a shelf. People come over and everyone can't wait to see where she's placed now.
Dementia Treasure Hunt.
