Now that my Grandmother is hitting the upper years of her life, I think her ‘give-a-crap’ emotion is indefinitely broken.
It’s like I woke up one day and suddenly she was a hoot during the holidays. During Thanksgiving, we always go in a circle and tell what we are most thankful for. My Dad was in the middle of saying how happy he was that my Grandmother helped raise him to be the man that he is today when suddenly she leaned over to me and whispered that he should truly be thankful that she’s still alive and kicking (the problem is that she has a hard time whispering now so the entire table heard. Things got a little uncomfortable. But, hey, I thought it was hilarious.)
This year, my Grandmother probably had the best Christmas ever (which, apparently according to her, is always a win.) We always insist on getting her picture frame filled with photos of us just cheesin’ it up for her. But, this year someone got her Doctor Sleep by Stephen King. She didn’t care about anything after opening that.
You see, this super old lady (well, she is) has a weird affinity for creepy ghosts, ghouls, murderers, you name it. One time I walked in on her sleeping on the couch with Fear Net in the background. Fear Net. You know, that channel that only plays horror movies 24/7? I can’t tell if I admire her or if I am freakishly terrified of her. Needless to say, she totally finished that book in a matter of days.
The problem is, I definitely think her lack of empathy is gonna drift into her after-life. She already said that she wants to haunt her yard guy. (She says he forgets to trim her tree limbs. She also says she thinks he does it on purpose.) With her fascination and disturbingly extensive knowledge of a common ghost’s lifestyle, I have a sneaking suspicion that she would love to take over Whoopi Goldberg’s body and go do some pottery. (Even though my Grandmother has never done any pottery in her life.) I’m just hoping she doesn’t pass anytime soon. I don’t think the other ghosts could handle her.