It’s moving week around here. My mother, my mother-in-law, my grandmother, the neighbors across the street, someone the next street over…
It’s madness. But it’s somewhat removed madness, because I am not moving, and my mother does not want help, and no one else expects any help from my direction.
The biggest thing has been my grandmother moving. My grandparents bought the house forty years ago (brand new) and have lived there since (well, my grandfather died some time ago, so Grandma has), so that’s a long time to accumulate stuff. My grandmother is in her late ’90s and has decided to move into assisted living (she’s perfectly lucid, so it was entirely her decision), so she’s also shoving off almost everything.
Forty years of everything.
My grandmother has five children (including my mother) and apparently there is a feel that everything must be fair about the shoving off of everything, so there’s a long list of things that Grandma is not taking with her, and everyone has to go through it and see what they like, and put in a claim on their preferences. People with children have to do it for both them and their children, so having children actually puts them at a disadvantage because every one of the five siblings gets an equal share.
It has turned into a madhouse. I mean, it’s truly remarkable. I won’t go into that, but Good Lord.
Last week I went up to visit (my mother also currently lives in the same house). One of my uncles was out and about, looking at various things. My grandmother (an avid mystery reader) mentioned that the bookcases in the office had fiction books up for grabs.
I, of course, am never one to turn down free books. And I do like mysteries.
So I picked out, oh, five books or something. And my uncle (here you see some of the madness) brought up that his children didn’t know about said books being up for grabs, and maybe he should tell them about them.
“Oh, do they like mysteries?” I ask.
He owned that he didn’t think they did. But was it fair, if I took the books without them getting a chance to look?
My mother said that I would be willing to pass books along (which I am) when I am done. And while they debated that, I went and got another five.
(My uncle later asked why I hadn’t taken all of a particular series, to which the answer is “Because I haven’t read it and don’t know if I will like it” but I don’t remember what I actually told him. Also, bit mixed message-y. I’m going to assume he texted my cousins and they were like “We don’t care.”)
My mother was also getting rid of books, mostly in the YA science fiction and fantasy realm (though also some gothic thrillers) so all in all I think I ended up with about 20 books. Possibly more.
So I shall just be over here with my box of spoiled goods. Thank you very much.
Bwhahahaha.