NOTEBOOKS FROM THE CAREGIVER YEARS

Post-xmas/new year exercise to kick off 2014 right. 

Interesting post material for when the Muse re-appears.

thief in the night - good companion for the Cee Lo luluthia stench

'Klepsimo se stil tou Elgin' fake title for a flower

• good link to aid further reading - http://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=7097235#editor/target=post;postID=3587799773512639905;onPublishedMenu=posts;onClosedMenu=posts;postNum=6;src=postname

• The notebooks I filled during my conscientious five years and eight months dutiful attempt at caregivery. They are, in fact, of course precise records of thwartery, treachery, high-handed ignoring of anything that didnt absolutely fit the mistress/peon lifestyle.
• Gyaku Gire blenches and stenches throughout.
• Every page a sad record of theft ~ of time, of self-confidence, of self-esteem, of property (of course), of manners ... 

I read through these and the sadness was unbearable. What would I have said to that sad servile 60-year old? No idea. I read the pages with pity and despair. 

The pages reek with denial - could i not see what was being done to me? (Tee hee, the fool. Too late now, balance of mind lo-o-ng gone) The double theft of my daughters' heirloom jewels? The appalling gardenry duty - almost every day on the treadmill of futility, with further buffeting from endless blah-blah-blah hobby dronings ad murderous nauseam  as if dealing with some common criminal sentenced to brisk re-education as an 'under-gardener'. 

I have no cufflinks or tie pins left to leave my girls and their eventual partners. I bought a white shirt requiring cuff-links. In my 'elginiasmos' Will - theft befitting the Lord Elgin filch - I specify this shirt for my coffin close-up. 

Also the empty jewel box that housed gifts from my daughters, the contents tipped into my larger velveteen jewels holder for easier transportation to Villa Thefty  

Funny. It only cost me one theft to recognise the treasures and clothing that would be packed away for pressing on the Theftois.

Favourite pullovers that I actually heard described as too small for me or not fashionable or simply never seen worn hence must be of no interest.

In the end, I'd let everything be removed and concealed in a trunk that always harboured 'donations'. A few days before the grand arrival, retrieve my goodies, replace with a few greasy T-shirts, cheap ball-point pens, pirated CDs of cheap pop, rusty tools etc etc and slink away with the real stuff. Funniest of all, these were unilateral gift-packages put together with the best will but invariably completely ignored and left throughout the stay in their plastic bag at the bottom of the guest stairs.