FITTING IN

I must admit, that when Iris came to live with us, I was nervous.

I can’t tell you precisely why, but I was concerned.  I suppose… I didn’t know how she would feel.  If she would be comfortable living in bumble fluff nowhere.  How she would handle being away from the action, and not being able to watch the world roll by her front window.  If she would fit in.

Mostly, I thought she may be lonely.  With Charlie and I at work, and Jade at school, I wondered if she would be lonely all day.  Of course, I forget that she lives on her own anyway, with the stoopid cat, so being on her own is something that she’s use to now, I guess.

Her stoopid cat is in storage, as I like to call it.  The cat is living with her friend Sandy at the moment, who breeds ragdolls, and bred mum’s stoopid cat.  She’ll stay with Sandy until Mum moves into the unit.

So, I don’t know what Mum’s more excited about, actually; moving into the unit, or having her cat back.  Stoopid cat.

So, to fill the void that stoopid cat has left, she consoles herself with the three overly affectionate flea bags that I have, one of which was also bred by Sandy.  Certainly, they do not make up for stoopid cat, but they go a long way…

However, my initial concerns seem to have been unwarranted, as Mum has slipped into country life quite easily.  She fills her days knitting and watching her shows on Go! , Gem or Seven2, or she potters around my extensive garden, or goes for a drive to Kilmore or Heathcote.

I may come home, and she’s done some ironing, vacuuming or cleaning of some kind, which I protest about, but really don’t mind.  She feels useful and I feel ever appreciative.

I think, above all else, she enjoys the company at night.  Instead of being on her own, and getting random drop-in’s from her friends and family (which she loved), she has The Buttlers.  I don’t think that’s much of a trade up personally, but she seems to enjoy it.

Iris and Charlie get along like a house on fire.  I often come home, and they’re in the lounge watching some shit on telly (he has subjected her to the quality of Jerry Springer, and the other night, they were watching Machete), or flapping their gums.  I should say, it’s more Charlie flapping his gums, because he’s finally found a woman that actually gives a shit about what he craps on about.  Bless.

Iris loves her son-in-law.  He’s the favourite; clearly.  Nearly more treasured than the stoopid cat.  It drives Jade and I mad.

I also think Iris enjoys spending more time with me.  I take her on outings and adventures, looking at kitchens, carpet, and shopping centres around us.  I take her visiting friends, and out for lunch.  I assume Iris enjoys this.  I know I do.

I enjoy her being closer, and can’t wait until she’s in the unit, and life settles down into some semblance of normality again.  Where I go back to doing my own ironing, and Mum can start the next chapter of her life, and enjoy her time in Kilmore, where Bek will drop in for lunch, Carmel will drop in for a cuppa and a gum flap, and Charlie, Jade and I will be there as often as we can.

And the stoopid cat will have its mamma back.

Peace out.