'We don't like to go to Grandma's! She breaks.'

Oy. Oy. Oy. Oy fucking gevalt. Got home last night to find Mom in her chair, mummified in eight layers of fleece.

"Are you all right?"
"I fell in the kitchen. Oh God it hurts etc."
"Say what? When?"
"Oh, around 9:00. Could you bring my cane in from the car?"
"Sur--WHAT? Why the hell didn't you call me?"
"Well what could you have done?"
"I could have fucking brought your cane, for one thing!"

Nothing is broken, she says. The sporadic shrieking, however, made for a very long night.

(she tries to turn over) "AHAHOwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwww!"
"Jesus, why don't you let me help you? I can turn you over..."
"DON'T EVEN THINK ABOUT TOUCHING ME!"
"But--"
"Don't you try anything funny!"
"I can help you."
"You are helping me!"
"How the hell am I helping you? You won't let me do anything."
"AghaghaghaghaghDON'T TOUCH ME!!! You're here to comfort me."
"But I'm not doing anything!"
"AIEEEjust stay over there."

You don't want to know the noises she made when she moved in her sleep. It was like having a teething Devil Baby in the house.

She was much better this morning. *twitch*