Antiques Roadshow was in New Orleans last night, but I didn't see anyone I knew. I guess my New Orleans connections tend to be kind of light on collectibles.
Sorry about that whiny entry yesterday. What's a few hundred bucks, more or less, right? Besides, my little brother is going to be rich, and I can always mooch off of him in my old age. I actually talked to him last night on the phone, which never happens because we are about as different as it's possible for two people with the same bizarre childhood to be.
But last night's conversation went really well; we bonded over how fucked-up my mom's sister's family is, and how horrible it is that my mom's sister (did I mention that she's richer than God?) won't help my mom take care of our grandmother. We had a nice, smug conversation about how much better our family is than their family, and I started to think that maybe I will let my kids play with his kids after all.*
Grandmamma goes into the nursing home tomorrow. At this point I don't think it matters much, because she doesn't know where she is anyway, and the second you leave the room she forgets that you were ever there. But it's still sad. I hate the thought of having to face a decision like this with my own parents. I have explained to them that I expect them to live forever in perfect health. At least now they can go back to enjoying their own mostly-retirement, and my mom can breathe the free air once again.
*Neither of us has kids yet, of course. I'm a spinster and he's only 23. Whether or not I spend Christmases with his family also partially depends on how tolerable his future wife is, and whether or not he really is wealthy enough to mooch off of.
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