Tocky on 12/9/2017 at 02:07
When I am old and senile I want to be read to. Even if I don't know the person doing it I will enjoy it and if it is from my personal library the person reading will understand me a little better and maybe find solace in that or perhaps an author they didn't know they like. That or give me mescaline and take me to a concert.
Queue on 12/9/2017 at 03:56
"When" ?
Vasquez on 12/9/2017 at 12:47
Tocky, I tried to read to my mom, but she can't concentrate on following even a short story anymore. But I play music to her, all her old favorite songs, and that clearly cheers her up a lot :)
Sulphur on 12/9/2017 at 16:57
Whenever that time comes, and whatever anyone reads you Tocky, I hope it'll always be something Queue wrote.
Kolya on 12/9/2017 at 18:52
Take a book from the shelf, boy. What do you have? Ah yes, The Rosy Crucifixion by Henry Miller. A classic. Read to me, boy. My eyes are clouded, my skin is wiping the kitchen floor when I walk through the living room, but I still feel the fire burning deep inside my ... me. *rattling-cough*
montag on 14/9/2017 at 21:17
At approximately 2:00pm today, I said this :"Mom, please stop smearing the turd around on the floor."
Life is funny!
montag on 15/9/2017 at 00:34
Quote Posted by Vasquez
but my main concern is to make sure she feels as good, safe and painless as possible.
Thanks Vasquez, same goal here. Hang in there!
Tocky on 15/9/2017 at 00:52
Quote Posted by Queue
"When" ?
Alright then, you can give me mescaline and take me to a concert now. All the better.
Queue on 15/9/2017 at 02:18
Quote Posted by Sulphur
Whenever that time comes, and whatever anyone reads you Tocky, I hope it'll always be something Queue wrote.
Sort of a "Private Hell" kinda thing, right?
montag on 15/9/2017 at 05:06
I'm waiting for a phone call, it will either be really good news or everything stays the same news. If it's good news, I will have someone coming 6 hours a week to baby-sit the little monster while I run to the store, or take a walk in the park, or just take a shower without worrying about what is happening while I am not eyes-on the little monster. While I was waiting for our case manager to arrive today, the Pegster managed to crap all over the floor of two different bathrooms, and then preceded to finger paint the floor with her own feces. Jackson Pollock, eat your heart out! Wish me luck, I just stocked up on more pillows, and I'm not afraid to use them.
