Friday, December 7, 2012

Mass murders and tampons...

Today I discovered two things:

#1  Cookies mixed into the canister of Tide Pods:

#2  Cookies mixed into the jar of peanut butter:

And while I find these discoveries disconcerting, I also see the humor in them.  Especially the murder suicide that the hippopotamus apparently masterminded.  I would have loved it just that much more if it had been the work of the elephant.

But, these finds reminded me of the many treasures that I didn't think far enough ahead to document.  I never would have thought those times would be the good old days of this journey.  So, I will try to describe some of the discoveries... and, believe me when I tell you there is at least one that you will be glad that I did not capture for all eternity in a photograph.

Early on, the disease showed itself in the normal memory problems but it progressed to things like putting dishes away dirty.  I would try to find the humor while grabbing a dirty utensil from the drawer and asking, "Hey, does anybody know when we had spaghetti last?  I don't know whether this spoon is ok to use."

I used to buy a lot of items in bulk.  Used to because I came home from work to find 25 pounds of cat food and a large box of Tide combined into a big container.  When I asked Mom why she did it, her response was because it saved space. The time she combined the cat food and the cat litter, I actually thought was kind of clever.  It really would be nice if the cats saved me a step and just left already formed clumps.

Or the time that she emptied every package of noodles, macaroni and rice into one large container.  It might have made an interesting dish if she hadn't added the instant mashed potatoes to the mix.

I have to admit that I did not see the humor when she took the lid off of every single item in the cupboards. I mean every item.  To this day, I still have not found her stash of lids.

Probably my favorite, and the one I am most thankful for no pictures being taken, was the souvenir she brought home from one of her walking trips.  I drove into the driveway and there, impaled on the wrought iron plant hanger, was a pink, used tampon applicator.  I wondered what that represented in her mind.  Was it to serve as a warning like a head on a pike?  Or just a pretty bauble that she enjoyed seeing?  Whatever the reasoning it made me laugh long and hard. Especially, when I wondered how many people saw it before I did.

The funny stuff is becoming more rare with each passing day.  And knowing what is coming with this disease makes these times that much more special.  So, I will enjoy the mass murders and tampon impalements while they last. And I will laugh until I cry.

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