Step 1: Have a disease that ravishes your brain, leaving you incapable of understanding behavior appropriate to the situation, no filter in your brain so that inappropriate things come out of your mouth constantly, and no concept of personal space and inappropriate touching.
Step 2: Due to lack of an available home care aide, go with your daughter to the funeral of a cherished friend, loved by so many that the wait time in the receiving line was over an hour.
Step 3: Believe that you are the queen and that everyone knows you and wishes to interact with you.
Step 4: Freely and un-invited, touch the back or arm of any man you see, and tell each of them that you are looking for a boyfriend.
Step 5: Ignore the horrified look on your daughters face, as well as the stern eye she is giving you.
Step 6: Find a comfortable chair to sit in to rest your back and legs while your daughter stands in line, reminiscing and talking to the myriads of people she hasn’t seen in a very long time.
Step 7: When your daughter is not looking over at you, steal 3-4 more tissues out of the box on the table next to you, and stuff them up your sleeve before anyone notices. Ignore the fact that your daughter is noticing all of this.
Step 8: When you get home at 6:30pm, loudly protest to said daughter that you haven’t eaten all day, and no one gave you lunch. Stand there looking confused when daughter argues that in fact you did have lunch. Continue to protest the fact that you didn’t to the point where your daughter gets the home care aide on speaker phone, who tells you that you had quiche, Cole slaw and sweet potato fries for lunch.
Step 9: Forgive your daughter, who is a slow learner, and finally realized that all you were trying to say was “I’m hungry.”
Pretty sure I owe an apology to the family, and a fresh box of Kleenex to the funeral home.
PS – Update on the towel folding: I think she’s on to me! Last night when I gave the basket of towels to her to fold, she said “Didn’t I just do these last night?!” LOL
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