I sure was cursing the weather gods today when I awoke because there was a layer of snow on the rooftops.
Now, I'm cursing myself for thinking this was such a big deal. My mother just called me with the news that my grandma is in the hospital. The matriarch of our clan, 94 with class and sass, not invincible.
Ok, let's all stop for a "DUH, Etta!" moment. She's going to be 95 in May, most people don't make it that old, it's going to happen sometime. I've half-joked about being the one that Grandma is going to croak on and I've envisioned buying her house after she's gone, but really imagining her gone? That's flat-out impossible, she's too fucking set in her ways to actually die and I'm not ready at all.
That's it, I'm not ready, so it can't happen. Sounds good right? Let's see how it works.