It looks like the assisted living (residents and staff) will be getting our first vaccination on Friday!
Somehow this means that I'm MORE worried about getting Covid in the next couple days than I was in the previous 9 months. Brain, you are downright weird.
And before you ask, I have inquired and he is not taking in ironing.
You know, my mother has been ironing the tops of her sheets, since she likes to listen to the radio so looks for things to do... It had not occurred to me to ask her to do mine!!
I will be sitting with her Thursday afternoons to give them a break, and looking into a home health care aid for Maria. Any thoughts on how to do this?
I'd start with googling visiting nurse + your location (and I think you will land at your employer, but am not 100% sure of that!).
Somehow this means that I'm MORE worried about getting Covid in the next couple days than I was in the previous 9 months. Brain, you are downright weird.
Yeah, but not crazy -- my friend the EMT was basically on her way to get her first shot when she found out her work partner had covid.
Has anyone seen this thread? The videos are incredible. The police are literally just standing around. [link]
My friend, Todd, who had slipped into a coma after contracting COVID in November, died today.
He never woke up.
He died with his wife holding his hand, as some of his favorite music played.
Aside from his wife, he leaves behind one of the world's greatest and quirkiest movie blogs. He had an encyclopedic knowledge of world pop cinema (like...Bollywood Action Films of the 70s (his first book), Lucha Libre, Mexican musicals of the 40s, Filipino actioneers of the 80s, Hong Kong musicals of the 60s etc.). He had been a musician and led bands as the singer back in the 80s. He had me on his radio show a couple times and it was a total blast. We nerded out about all the odd corners of pop music and movies and TV.
He was in his early 50s.
I'm sorry, Hec. That's so sad.
Oh how awful, David.
I don’t even make my bed properly, I can’t even imagine what ironed sheets feel like.
I'm sorry about your friend, David.
So sorry about your friend, David
David, I'm so sorry about your friend.
Monday was laundry day when I was wee. My mom made up a batch of liquid starch and dipped and hand-wrung my dad's work uniforms, then pulled the pants onto pants stretchers and hung them on the line on the back porch. The shirts she laid out on the kitchen table one by one, folded them and then rolled them up and stacked them in a plastic bag and stored the bag in the fridge--a little logpile of work shirts. Tuesday was ironing day, and she set up the board in front of the little kitchen tv and watched her game shows and stories while she ironed my dad's dress shirts, her cotton blouses and shirtwaist dresses, and my cotton dresses with the sashes that tied in the back. She got all the fine clothes done before pulling one rolled starched shirt out of the bag in the fridge and ironing it and hanging it on a wire hanger. The starched-stiff pants and shirts, when dry, hung just inside the door of the utility closet where he could reach them and dress for work in the morning.
When that was done, I got a spray bottle of water, the board lowered, and the basket of my parents' handkerchiefs, plus the week's dish towels and pillowcases to iron. It was actually kind of fun when I got into the rythym, and making things smooth where they had been wrinkled was nice. But we never ironed sheets.