As I mentioned in an earlier post, Grandma has been a bit under the weather this week, sleeping all day, not eating much and getting dizzy if she stood up. Bit of a worry for an 80- something Granny who is usually up at sparrow's fart bitching about futons or rubbish or the fact that nobody will trim her trees for her or what have you. When she was sick I actually got all soft and thought about how much we will miss her when she finally kicks the bucket.
Yeah, not so much today.
She finally went to the doctor, after much nagging from MIL, me, Ryota and random Obachans on the dirt path who had heard of her 'shindoi-ness' through the dirt path grapevine AKA tactless gaijin who yells "ばああちゃん大丈夫の？？まだしんどい？？(Oi Granny!! You OK love? Still feelin' like shite??)" from her veranda to the in-laws open window...
The doctor claimed she was run-down (don't all doctors in Japan use that when the haven't a fucking clue??) and needed a tenteki. What the fuck is a tenteki in English?? IV?? Drip?? Anyway, she got the tenteki and came back with a new lease on life. I swear to god that little bag of vitamins dripping into her veins must have had some psychological effect, it couldn't have just cured her like magic. Or maybe I'm too cynical, maybe tentekis are the miracle cure for 'shindoi-ness'?? But whatever it was, she was totally fine, wolfed down her dinner and woke up this morning way before anyone else to creep in to our genkan to put our rubbish out.
Which brings me to the point of why I kinda liked it when she was bed-ridden... Fucking rubbish. For me, separating rubbish is the very definition of 'medokusai' (fiddly as fuck). I do the basics, separate the pet bottles and cans and shit, but when it comes to burnable and plastics, if it's stinky, I'm sorry, I'm just going to put it in the garbage bag that goes out first. I know I know, I'm a bad girl, but seriously, if mother nature could smell my rubbish bin after a few days worth of cat food, shitty nappies and rotten food has built up then she would understand my need to cheat the rubbish system and sneak smelly burnable things in with my clean plastics.
Mother nature would understand, but Grandma sooo won't accept that excuse. Basically, on Wednesday I put a bag of plastics out with a few naughties in it and it was slapped with a rejection sticker, I wanted to ignore it and plead rubbish ignorance but it was spied and brought back to our house by possibly MIL but probably a nosey dirt path Obachan. But I thought, 'Meh, no worries, I'll just dump it on Friday with the burnables.' I planned to do this today but Grandma had already slapped her rubbish nazi cap and was going through the offending bag when I left for kindy with Ash. I got a 10 minute lecture on separating the rubbish and what was burnable or not. I wanted to tell her I knew what was burnable, I just chose to be a rubbish rebel but the woman was elbow deep in our shit (quite literally) so thought best to keep my gob shut.
It won't matter as much now as weather is getting cooler and the rubbish won't smell like in in summer, but still, what if there were private things in our rubbish, wouldn't want Grandma finding a sex toy box or something! Not that there is anything like that in out house, Ashton would probably sneak it into his Anpanman car seat where every other important thing seems to end up these days.
Everything else is pretty boring here, still no contact with dog fucker, she's cramming driving lessons in for her driving test in a few weeks. Until our tiff I was taking her out in our car to deserted car parks and shopping centres but she can get bent now, I might fucking offend her if I 'say too much' and tell her what a shit driver she is...
Getting the house sorted for Mum and sister's arrival next week, dreading sorting the spare room but must be done so best get to it. Also thinking what I'm going to cook, I've enver cooked for a family of, fuck me 5! Considering Mum refuses to try anything slightly exotic, sister hates seafood, Ashton still needs slightly modified baby-ish type food, and Ryota will no doubt have a whinge about watever is cooked every night I may have to look into hiring a personal chef for 2 weeks, any volunteers....?