She has these horribly ugly, very sentimental tchotchkes that she had on her piano at her apartment. Bronzed shoes of her and her sister, some cardboard cutouts of same, and some heinous ceramic egg thingy. Even though every one of her possessions resides in her new room, somehow these tchotchkes found their way onto the top of her piano at our house. We understand the logic, actually... in her mind, that's where they go. Unfortunately, they don't mesh with the room's decor, nor are they attractive to look at. That sounds bad, doesn't it? We sound like cold-hearted neat freaks, maybe. The piano is kind of right at the entrance to the house, so it's not like it's some secluded corner or someplace that she could claim as hers. We are going to have to tactfully ask her to put them somewhere in her room instead. We'll see how that goes -- gonna tell her about it tomorrow night. My husband was actually gonna put them in a box in front of her door... but changed his mind and put them back, so I can talk to her and she can move them herself.
I forgot to mention yesterday, when I was tidying up and cleaning in her room, I noticed that her sink and toiletries surrounding the sink were splattered with white stuff. What the hell happened? I wondered... until I noticed her new electric toothbrush. Ahhhhh, I get it. After I cleaned it, I heard her wandering in, so I asked, "Did you have a toothpaste explosion in here?" After the usual "What?" and me repeating myself (she really needs hearing aids), the answer was yes. Then I kind of kicked myself for cleaning it up, and then even later I kicked myself for not chiding her to clean up that kind of a mess immediately instead of waiting for someone/something else to magically clean it for her. I have to admit, it kind of angers me, when she seems to assume that she'll be cleaned up after, without taking initiative, asking for help, or apologizing, basically any kind of acknowledgment that in any regular situation, she should (be able to) clean up after themselves in a basic way, or that it takes time and effort for someone else to do it for them. My husband calls it her sense of entitlement. It's interesting, because that is most often affiliated with a certain younger generation.... but oddly, she has it too. Is it her age? Is it the way she was brought up?
Wednesday morning is a dentist appointment. Not a $2000 out-of-pocket deep cleaning that she can't afford, but a $150 regular cleaning. I told her that, and she didn't seem to have a problem with that, at least. I asked if she's using her electric toothbrush. She said she was, but that it was too strong. I wonder if she's really using it or not.
Her car, which is sitting in our driveway, has a flat tire. We need to look up the value of it (and change the tire) so we can start the process of trying to sell it. Naturally, it has tons of body damage -- scratches, dents, etc. -- and my husband said when his mom left it to her 7 years ago, it was in immaculate condition. But at least it drives well, at least when it has working tires.
Oh, and the last thing for the day -- she is mailing out some bills, which the husband brought in with the mail by accident... actually, it's funny that she puts her mail out there in the mailbox, in the middle of the mail that's already arrived. Anyway, one of the bills has one of those openings in the envelope for the address to show through, and all you can see is that there's a check inside... no address. It's stamped, return addressed, but no delivery address. Nice. Took a picture of it, as I do with all such things, just in case we need evidence later.
And the actual last last thing... also at the salon yesterday, she wanted to buy shampoo and mousse for her hair because the stylist suggested it. I deferred that purchase, because of course they'd be cheaper in a regular store instead of a salon. And so right there, she was attempting to spend money that could have gone towards a tip. Know what I'm saying??
Monday, July 25, 2011
Sunday painting, again
After church this morning, Aunt May and I went to the salon. She's been asking me nearly every day when she can go. Apparently she used to go once a month to get a full haircolor. I told her we needed to look at the budget to see if she could afford it, and she vehemently insisted that she could definitely afford it, that it's never been a problem. We argued a bit on the way there, my side being that she didn't need to get a full color every time, and her side being that she did. I pointed out that she's wasting money on getting a full color, when she just needs a touch up, which costs less. She countered that she didn't worry about the money because she didn't want it to look "spotty." So to conclude it, I said, today you'll get a full color, but when you go back in 6 weeks (not a month), you'll just get a touch-up. She murmured something self-assuring ("it'll all work out" or something like that) and I dropped her off at the salon, after discussing with her new stylist the cost ($77) and when to come back and get her (1 hour).
Fast forward to her paying the bill... turns out the stylist is a twin also, and her name is Nancy Ann* (name changed) and she was being super sweet to Aunt May and they were both acting like they hit it off big-time. So when reminded to add a tip, she told the stylist to add $5. Five dollars?? That's less than 10 percent! I said wait, don't you want to leave at least a 15% tip? Aunt May got upset -- "That's all I can afford." I was stunned. I offered to give my debit card an extra $10 charge but of course that wouldn't work -- you can't just charge a tip as a charge :( The stylist was really nice about it and waved it off. But after we got into the car, I started on her. "How could you leave just a $5 tip after how much you guys hit it off? Do you know that's less than 10 percent?" "But that's all I can afford!" she repeated. This was just confusing. "If you can't afford a 15 percent tip, then you can't afford to get the service. This is how people make their living, you know. If you leave less than 10 percent, that's considered an insult, and you're basically saying they gave terrible service." "Well, what do you want me to do, get a job?" Wow, didn't see that one coming. Then, "You have a job that pays a lot" (she has no idea what I make) -- "You can afford to tip like that." I told her my job and pay had nothing to do with this rule of etiquette. I told her I was embarrassed. She said she wasn't. I told her she should be. "How about we ask my husband?" "You can't ask a man about a woman's thing like this," she scoffed. Her logic was improving by the minute.
Back at the ranch, I told my husband what had happened. He agreed with me 100%. If she can't afford an extra $5 for a proper tip, then she can't afford the salon. What's ludicrous is that she had probably $50 to $100 cash dripping out of her delapidated wallet when she dredged up her credit card to pay... I thought of it later and wished I had just said, "Hey, could you give me $5 and I'll go get you a Starbucks?" then when she gave it to me, I could just hand it to the stylist. Anyway, he told me that when he was a waiter, the waitstaff would always hate getting old people as customers because they were horrible tippers. There was another group of predictably bad tippers which I won't mention :) But this is so weird to me. Did they teach that tipping was optional, or "tip-what-you-can-afford" back in the 50s or something? Why is it that a whole generation is purchasing meals and services and paying the base price, but clueless about the 15% rule?? I will have to look into this. And despite my husband saying I shouldn't try to reason with her, I still fantasize about showing her an Emily Post and her suddenly understanding the truth. But we did agree that the cost of a tip will be mandatory into the cost of future salon visits (and the next one will need to make up for this one).
She still insists that she's great at managing her money, that she's "paying off her debt." I pointed out that she's only paying the minimum, and that the interest on her debt was higher than the interest in her stocks, so she's losing money on a couple of fronts. But my husband and I will have to have that conversation with her another day. Totally can't wait. :P
Fast forward to her paying the bill... turns out the stylist is a twin also, and her name is Nancy Ann* (name changed) and she was being super sweet to Aunt May and they were both acting like they hit it off big-time. So when reminded to add a tip, she told the stylist to add $5. Five dollars?? That's less than 10 percent! I said wait, don't you want to leave at least a 15% tip? Aunt May got upset -- "That's all I can afford." I was stunned. I offered to give my debit card an extra $10 charge but of course that wouldn't work -- you can't just charge a tip as a charge :( The stylist was really nice about it and waved it off. But after we got into the car, I started on her. "How could you leave just a $5 tip after how much you guys hit it off? Do you know that's less than 10 percent?" "But that's all I can afford!" she repeated. This was just confusing. "If you can't afford a 15 percent tip, then you can't afford to get the service. This is how people make their living, you know. If you leave less than 10 percent, that's considered an insult, and you're basically saying they gave terrible service." "Well, what do you want me to do, get a job?" Wow, didn't see that one coming. Then, "You have a job that pays a lot" (she has no idea what I make) -- "You can afford to tip like that." I told her my job and pay had nothing to do with this rule of etiquette. I told her I was embarrassed. She said she wasn't. I told her she should be. "How about we ask my husband?" "You can't ask a man about a woman's thing like this," she scoffed. Her logic was improving by the minute.
Back at the ranch, I told my husband what had happened. He agreed with me 100%. If she can't afford an extra $5 for a proper tip, then she can't afford the salon. What's ludicrous is that she had probably $50 to $100 cash dripping out of her delapidated wallet when she dredged up her credit card to pay... I thought of it later and wished I had just said, "Hey, could you give me $5 and I'll go get you a Starbucks?" then when she gave it to me, I could just hand it to the stylist. Anyway, he told me that when he was a waiter, the waitstaff would always hate getting old people as customers because they were horrible tippers. There was another group of predictably bad tippers which I won't mention :) But this is so weird to me. Did they teach that tipping was optional, or "tip-what-you-can-afford" back in the 50s or something? Why is it that a whole generation is purchasing meals and services and paying the base price, but clueless about the 15% rule?? I will have to look into this. And despite my husband saying I shouldn't try to reason with her, I still fantasize about showing her an Emily Post and her suddenly understanding the truth. But we did agree that the cost of a tip will be mandatory into the cost of future salon visits (and the next one will need to make up for this one).
She still insists that she's great at managing her money, that she's "paying off her debt." I pointed out that she's only paying the minimum, and that the interest on her debt was higher than the interest in her stocks, so she's losing money on a couple of fronts. But my husband and I will have to have that conversation with her another day. Totally can't wait. :P
Monday, July 18, 2011
Monday is cleaning day
During our argument on Saturday, she said she had asked me how often to clean (her room), and I had said once a week. So she took that to mean that every Monday, she would clean. "So," I asked, "did you clean the day I gave you the vacuum?" "I really don't know," was the answer. And then I'm pretty sure she changed her mind, and said she did clean, but that it hurt the right side of her back. But I said, "I don't think you did clean, because I still see stuff on the floor." So, we'll never know the truth, will we guys?
So today is Monday.
This morning, she was happily setting up a jigsaw puzzle I'd bought her, on the living room coffee table. Cool, I thought -- this will exercise her mental faculties. I was home most of the day, but had left her alone for a few hours. When I saw her after that, the jigsaw puzzle was gone. "What happened to the puzzle?" I asked her. She said she couldn't really figure it out, so I offered to help do it with her. "You can pick out all the edge pieces, then put those together. You can also work on turning all the pieces right side up." We brought the box back to the coffee table and dumped out most of the pieces, working on finding the edge pieces and turning them all around. We made small talk about how she used to do puzzles as a kid -- she said all the pieces were numbered, and they would just put it together by number. She commented how many pieces there were on this puzzle and how complicated it was. "Well," I remarked, "maybe I could get you a smaller puzzle," and she liked that idea. We kept working on the puzzle. Then I left to do some work, and when I came back, the puzzle was gone again! "What happened to the puzzle??" I asked her. "Well, you said you'd buy a smaller puzzle." "Oh, I didn't know that meant you were giving up on this one!" "Oh, I'm sorry," she said, with no intention of reconsidering. Ugh.
Later, at dinner, I asked her if she knew what Mondays meant. She said yes, but clearly had no idea. I reminded her it was cleaning day. "So did you vacuum today?" "Well, no, because you had me working on that puzzle. I didn't know if I was supposed to work on the puzzle, or clean." But she never asked me which she should work on, and I swear to God, she was working on that puzzle this morning no longer than 10 minutes. I just LOVE how she blames me for not doing her single solitary chore. What the hell??!! This is probably very bad and wrong, but I feel like she's using excuses that will work because they're based on a weakness of hers. For example, she can say it will hurt her physically, or she doesn't remember, or something else that she can't handle. It is terrible to be suspicious, but when she doesn't take responsibility for a very simple chore, when all her needs are otherwise being taken care of, it feels that she's being ungrateful and selfish and lazy. Am I bad for saying that???
Went through her finances today, calculated her assets and her debts. Turns out she would spend about $50/month on Starbucks -- who knew?? various Home Shopping Network and QVC purchases (around 100-200 a month -- and those WON'T happen again), some questionable charges (of course), like memory vitamins for $300+ (FUCK!), a monthly "Auto Advantage" charge of $16, and another direct marketing monthly charge of $20. There is also a weird transfer of $75 from checking to savings, and then back to checking again. WTF? Don't even get me started on the "personal loan" that she is paying off. I asked her what the loan money had been for. "I didn't get any money." "Well, you know how a loan works -- the bank gives you a wad of money, and then you pay it back. So now you're paying it back, which means they gave you a bunch of money -- what did you use it for?" "They didn't give me any money." "Doesn't that sound strange to you? Doesn't that sound wrong?" "Yes."
The truth is out there.
In the meantime, I may have no hair left on my head.
On the upside, it seems at first glance that she will be able to pay off her debts, pay me back for all the prescriptions I've gotten for her, and then (after those are paid off), pay us rent.
Her chores for tomorrow:
1) vacuum her bedroom floor, wipe her bathroom counters
2) call Geico and ask them to lower her car insurance to "not being operated" (or whatever it's called) since it's not being used
3) call Auto Advantage to cancel4) call DMV to ask them how she's supposed to get a senior ID card when she mailed her driver's license back to them already, and no longer has valid ID. THIS chore, I predict she will miserably fail on, because I explained it about 5 times, and she had this blank look on her face. I told her I can't call the DMV, that she has to do it. (Even though on Saturday she asked me to do it because she was too "disgusted" with them -- oh sure, let me take care of all your uncomfortable and unpleasant chores for you!) This is another scenario where I imagine that she is smart enough to pretend to not get it, so that I will end up doing it for her. My husband encourages me not to enable her, that I need to let her feel the consequences for not doing things for herself. I do have this weird thing where I want to take care of her and help her, but then resent her for all the extra work I'm doing. I think my husband is right, that it boils down to gratitude, and feeling like the work I'm doing is appreciated, and that when I don't get that, I feel resentful. YES! He said I shouldn't expect her to appreciate it, that she's not capable of it, and pretty nearly never has been. I have to say, I do feel an underpinning of rage about it, so I definitely need to watch it, and let her fend for herself around the house much more. No more bringing her a tray of food into her room like she's on vacation and I'm a cocktail waitress. We'll see how if I can pull it off.
So today is Monday.
This morning, she was happily setting up a jigsaw puzzle I'd bought her, on the living room coffee table. Cool, I thought -- this will exercise her mental faculties. I was home most of the day, but had left her alone for a few hours. When I saw her after that, the jigsaw puzzle was gone. "What happened to the puzzle?" I asked her. She said she couldn't really figure it out, so I offered to help do it with her. "You can pick out all the edge pieces, then put those together. You can also work on turning all the pieces right side up." We brought the box back to the coffee table and dumped out most of the pieces, working on finding the edge pieces and turning them all around. We made small talk about how she used to do puzzles as a kid -- she said all the pieces were numbered, and they would just put it together by number. She commented how many pieces there were on this puzzle and how complicated it was. "Well," I remarked, "maybe I could get you a smaller puzzle," and she liked that idea. We kept working on the puzzle. Then I left to do some work, and when I came back, the puzzle was gone again! "What happened to the puzzle??" I asked her. "Well, you said you'd buy a smaller puzzle." "Oh, I didn't know that meant you were giving up on this one!" "Oh, I'm sorry," she said, with no intention of reconsidering. Ugh.
Later, at dinner, I asked her if she knew what Mondays meant. She said yes, but clearly had no idea. I reminded her it was cleaning day. "So did you vacuum today?" "Well, no, because you had me working on that puzzle. I didn't know if I was supposed to work on the puzzle, or clean." But she never asked me which she should work on, and I swear to God, she was working on that puzzle this morning no longer than 10 minutes. I just LOVE how she blames me for not doing her single solitary chore. What the hell??!! This is probably very bad and wrong, but I feel like she's using excuses that will work because they're based on a weakness of hers. For example, she can say it will hurt her physically, or she doesn't remember, or something else that she can't handle. It is terrible to be suspicious, but when she doesn't take responsibility for a very simple chore, when all her needs are otherwise being taken care of, it feels that she's being ungrateful and selfish and lazy. Am I bad for saying that???
Went through her finances today, calculated her assets and her debts. Turns out she would spend about $50/month on Starbucks -- who knew?? various Home Shopping Network and QVC purchases (around 100-200 a month -- and those WON'T happen again), some questionable charges (of course), like memory vitamins for $300+ (FUCK!), a monthly "Auto Advantage" charge of $16, and another direct marketing monthly charge of $20. There is also a weird transfer of $75 from checking to savings, and then back to checking again. WTF? Don't even get me started on the "personal loan" that she is paying off. I asked her what the loan money had been for. "I didn't get any money." "Well, you know how a loan works -- the bank gives you a wad of money, and then you pay it back. So now you're paying it back, which means they gave you a bunch of money -- what did you use it for?" "They didn't give me any money." "Doesn't that sound strange to you? Doesn't that sound wrong?" "Yes."
The truth is out there.
In the meantime, I may have no hair left on my head.
On the upside, it seems at first glance that she will be able to pay off her debts, pay me back for all the prescriptions I've gotten for her, and then (after those are paid off), pay us rent.
Her chores for tomorrow:
1) vacuum her bedroom floor, wipe her bathroom counters
2) call Geico and ask them to lower her car insurance to "not being operated" (or whatever it's called) since it's not being used
3) call Auto Advantage to cancel4) call DMV to ask them how she's supposed to get a senior ID card when she mailed her driver's license back to them already, and no longer has valid ID. THIS chore, I predict she will miserably fail on, because I explained it about 5 times, and she had this blank look on her face. I told her I can't call the DMV, that she has to do it. (Even though on Saturday she asked me to do it because she was too "disgusted" with them -- oh sure, let me take care of all your uncomfortable and unpleasant chores for you!) This is another scenario where I imagine that she is smart enough to pretend to not get it, so that I will end up doing it for her. My husband encourages me not to enable her, that I need to let her feel the consequences for not doing things for herself. I do have this weird thing where I want to take care of her and help her, but then resent her for all the extra work I'm doing. I think my husband is right, that it boils down to gratitude, and feeling like the work I'm doing is appreciated, and that when I don't get that, I feel resentful. YES! He said I shouldn't expect her to appreciate it, that she's not capable of it, and pretty nearly never has been. I have to say, I do feel an underpinning of rage about it, so I definitely need to watch it, and let her fend for herself around the house much more. No more bringing her a tray of food into her room like she's on vacation and I'm a cocktail waitress. We'll see how if I can pull it off.
Sunday, July 17, 2011
Sunday painting
Received a note on the kitchen counter last night: "Martha, do you want to go to church tomorrow morning?" I wrote back, "Yes, I will take you to church. We can leave at 8:45 am," and stuck it under her door. Sure enough, this morning around 8:40 I spotted her hovering in the den area. Did she know I could see her? I don't think she realizes that you can see into the bedrooms from the den, so if it were anyone else, I might suspect that she was trying to see if I was awake or not.
On the way to church, there was not a word about the argument last night. I had asked my husband if he thought I should apologize. "Well, it depends," he said. "I wasn't there, so I couldn't say for sure, but if you feel terrible or if you were wrong, I suppose you could. Or if you think you were somewhat justified, you could say something like, 'I'm sorry for getting angry with you, but I am concerned about this.'" I pondered. "Well, I do feel justified; I feel like everything I said was logical, even if I was steamed." We decided that she'd probably forget it ever happened so I might as well ignore it and move on.
I am deciding to let go of the fact that after I let her out of the car after church, before going to park, that she locked the front door behind her, so that I had to unlock the door myself. Hello, right behind you??? Don't. Be. Annoyed.
She headed over to the kitchen. She came back out holding a cup (a juice glass, oddly, instead of a coffee mug) full of coffee. "I have coffee, is that ok?" "Sure," I mumbled, not thinking about it. Then I saw my husband's face. "She just poured herself MY coffee!" he hissed. "Well, either we could say something, or next time we could just make additional coffee." "We don't know if she wants coffee every time I want it, and I don't want to waste coffee." "OK, well, let's tell her that she needs to let us know before she wants it, or before she takes it, to just 'put an order in' sort of, when she wants coffee, so that this doesn't happen again." So he knocked on her door: "Aunt May, that was my coffee." (oh no, I'm sorry, I heard faintly.) She agreed to give warning next time. We'll see if she remembers.
About 10 minutes after she left for her walk today (after she "lost" and then found her keys in her purse), we heard sirens. "Oh God, do you think those are for Aunt May?" "I'll let you go look." "If those sirens come up to this street, I'm going out to look for her." "All right, I'd go with you."
On the way to church, there was not a word about the argument last night. I had asked my husband if he thought I should apologize. "Well, it depends," he said. "I wasn't there, so I couldn't say for sure, but if you feel terrible or if you were wrong, I suppose you could. Or if you think you were somewhat justified, you could say something like, 'I'm sorry for getting angry with you, but I am concerned about this.'" I pondered. "Well, I do feel justified; I feel like everything I said was logical, even if I was steamed." We decided that she'd probably forget it ever happened so I might as well ignore it and move on.
I am deciding to let go of the fact that after I let her out of the car after church, before going to park, that she locked the front door behind her, so that I had to unlock the door myself. Hello, right behind you??? Don't. Be. Annoyed.
She headed over to the kitchen. She came back out holding a cup (a juice glass, oddly, instead of a coffee mug) full of coffee. "I have coffee, is that ok?" "Sure," I mumbled, not thinking about it. Then I saw my husband's face. "She just poured herself MY coffee!" he hissed. "Well, either we could say something, or next time we could just make additional coffee." "We don't know if she wants coffee every time I want it, and I don't want to waste coffee." "OK, well, let's tell her that she needs to let us know before she wants it, or before she takes it, to just 'put an order in' sort of, when she wants coffee, so that this doesn't happen again." So he knocked on her door: "Aunt May, that was my coffee." (oh no, I'm sorry, I heard faintly.) She agreed to give warning next time. We'll see if she remembers.
About 10 minutes after she left for her walk today (after she "lost" and then found her keys in her purse), we heard sirens. "Oh God, do you think those are for Aunt May?" "I'll let you go look." "If those sirens come up to this street, I'm going out to look for her." "All right, I'd go with you."
3 weeks
It's been 3 weeks, so about time for an eruption. Last night Aunt May complained that she needed her toenails cut, and she had some sort of callous on her foot. She also said she needed her hair done, as she grimaced and plucked at the hair on the side of her head. I asked her how much and how often she would normally get her hair done. She said $70, once a month. "I think that's pretty good," she said. Keep in mind you guys, what she's doing is getting her whole head dyed by Supercuts, for this generous sum. I said, "I think it looks nice gray. It's distinguished." She smiled and sort of laughed, in the way that someone does when they don't agree with you one bit.
Anyhow, so Robert and I were going to Lowe's and the nail salon is right on the way, so we all loaded up in the car to make the short trip down the hill. After she sat down in the front passenger seat, Aunt May actually got her seat buckle on -- which she can't normally do by herself, so I was inwardly congratulating her on making progress. But that was premature. She couldn't figure out how to shut the door. She grabbed at the inside door handle, the one that opens the door, kind of pulling on it hard, instead of the big handle which has less chance of ripping off the door, so I said, "No, don't pull that handle, pull the other one." She got totally confused and started looking at the buttons on the side of the door, at the window. I tapped her leg -- "Over here, look where I'm holding," and demonstrated the correct door handle on my side of the car. "Oh!" she said, and finally grabbed the right handle.
Take a deep breath. Then we went down the hill and I pulled up in front of the salon. Parking and then walking with her would take twice as long. Note to self: Don't forget to ask her doctor for (a note to request) a handicapped car hang tag.
After Robert and I were done with Lowe's, we swung back over to pick her up. Robert wanted to get home quicker, so he walked from there -- a short walk.
(to be continued)
Anyhow, so Robert and I were going to Lowe's and the nail salon is right on the way, so we all loaded up in the car to make the short trip down the hill. After she sat down in the front passenger seat, Aunt May actually got her seat buckle on -- which she can't normally do by herself, so I was inwardly congratulating her on making progress. But that was premature. She couldn't figure out how to shut the door. She grabbed at the inside door handle, the one that opens the door, kind of pulling on it hard, instead of the big handle which has less chance of ripping off the door, so I said, "No, don't pull that handle, pull the other one." She got totally confused and started looking at the buttons on the side of the door, at the window. I tapped her leg -- "Over here, look where I'm holding," and demonstrated the correct door handle on my side of the car. "Oh!" she said, and finally grabbed the right handle.
Take a deep breath. Then we went down the hill and I pulled up in front of the salon. Parking and then walking with her would take twice as long. Note to self: Don't forget to ask her doctor for (a note to request) a handicapped car hang tag.
After Robert and I were done with Lowe's, we swung back over to pick her up. Robert wanted to get home quicker, so he walked from there -- a short walk.
(to be continued)
Wednesday, July 13, 2011
Starter Edition
The first blog post... Oy, the pressure! Our Aunt May* has moved in with my husband and me, and we're all slowly losing our respective sanity, but trying to keep the fun in "dysfunctional." Within a month of moving in, Aunt May got a police escort home from her walk, and I got a lecture on leaving a demented woman unsupervised. :P
Just one of many "LOL" moments.
Today, received a letter from the DMV stating that her license was suspended, not from medical information as I expected, but due to "insufficient skill" in driving. She flunked her written and behind-the-wheel test. The letter included information about how to appeal the decision... should I show it to her?
*names changed to protect from public humiliation
Just one of many "LOL" moments.
Today, received a letter from the DMV stating that her license was suspended, not from medical information as I expected, but due to "insufficient skill" in driving. She flunked her written and behind-the-wheel test. The letter included information about how to appeal the decision... should I show it to her?
*names changed to protect from public humiliation
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