Let's just call this,... "an emergency"!
Maybe you know,
maybe you don't -
My mother is wild
and always has been.
She's in her 70s,
living alone
100 miles away
in the backwoods
of the backwoods.
She recently bought a hobbit house
to feel "comfortable" when visiting
the suburban backyard we bought from her.
The thing about Mom,
is that her presence
necessitates
an emergency.
A friend from High School recounts
visiting one time,
only to find my mom in a night dress
with a flashlight
weeding the backfield
while cursing
tremendously.
It was sometime after midnight,
and mom was doing,
what my mom always did.
SOMETHING.
She's a night-owl.
Growing up,
it was often video games
or borrowed foreign films from the library.
I'd wake up at 4am to check on her,
and she'd STILL be playing Ecco The Dolphin.
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It's hard to guess,
it's hard to question,
it's hard to imagine
until you see it.
She visited,
(surprisingly)
this weekend.
I will remind you
surprise is not necessarily
a judgmental word
although
I admit,
it is more negative
than I at first, assumed.
Anyways -
She joined us and a friend
for an evening of
dinner, dessert, "Hamilton", and conversation
and long after our yawns had started,
at about 1:30am, she decided it was time for bed.
About 2:15am, she knocked on the door.
*tap*tap*tap*
She is locked out of her Hobbit House.
This whole time,
she'd been futzing with it.
I put on shoes and spend 30 minutes locking...
and unlocking her door
to no result.
No entry.
It is not the key.
It is not the lock.
It is the knob.
We engage tools.
Screwdrivers.
We unscrew the knob and the lockplate,
because it is an old mortise lock.
but realize
(too late)
this might not be a good idea.
Too late!
The loose knob
and turn mechanism falls inside the locked house.
Mom wonders if she can 'break in'.
She suggests the biggest window.
I suggest the smallest window,
near the lock
of the biggest window.
She suggests kicking open the door,
assuming
it was a small lockplate
which will do little
or no damage
if she attacks it
with the force
of a 3am panic attack.
I suggest we wait for daylight.
She suggests she would sleep in her car,
then cramp up,
and then have the cops called on her,
due to her dog barking.
I do not follow her reasoning,
and offer a couch,
a blanket,
and answers in the morning.
She worries about her purse
which is locked up so securely in her hobbit house,
that even she cannot reach it.
She fears vandals.
She again suggests breaking down the door.
I again suggest calmer measures,...
literally...the calmest measure.
"Sleep".
She searches the property with a flashlight for an antique doorset...
she specifically remembers because she sold us the property 4 years ago
with several antique door sets SOMEWHERE.
She swears, they are where she put them "last"
and they will assist her jammed door issue.
When my simple suggestions are not heeded,
I follow with keys to the various outbuildings
and a flashlight.
She satisfies herself...
she cannot find them.
I satisfy her,
by finding them
immediately....
once she has given up hope,
and decided to listen to me.....
because I do know where they are
because I have had to move them
more than once.
She is breathing heavily,
in a slow-roll panic.
Sailor wakes up about 3:30am
struggling to sleep
after all of our in/out toolseeking
just as I convince mom
to wait for morning on the couch.
Sailor takes a key to the back fiend and tries the hobbit door...
coming to my same conclusion.
She's fast asleep when we return 10 minutes later.
We get ready for bed again,
she wakes up,
making her way to the couch.
She won't take off her shoes,
(refuses)
and sleeps half-on/half-off
in the predictably most uncomfortable way
you can possibly lay on a couch.
Sailor and I go to bed
after doing
all we could do
for now.
In the morning,
I wake up to Sailor having already identified the problem,
fixed the lock,
opened the door,
had bought -and was installing- a modern deadbolt.
Mom was pleased as punch
and doubly grateful
while I make breakfast for everyone.
No real emergency.
Much like past incidents.
But, certainly
an inconvenience.
But that's it.
An inconvenience.
I know many
who struggle
to know the difference
between an inconvenience
and an emergency.
My mom,
is my case study.
But, she is safe.
We are safe.
There are no fires,
no injuries,
all pets and persons involved
are healthy.
A locked door.
A dead car.
An unbalanced truckload.
A heavy object.
A hole in the deck.
An early rainstorm.
Being late for an appointment.
Whatever it is,
it is PROBABLY
an inconvenience.
But how do you explain that
to someone
who is busy panicking
and defensively asserting
the emergency situation
of all that FEELING
they are feeling?
maybe you don't -
My mother is wild
and always has been.
She's in her 70s,
living alone
100 miles away
in the backwoods
of the backwoods.
She recently bought a hobbit house
to feel "comfortable" when visiting
the suburban backyard we bought from her.
The thing about Mom,
is that her presence
necessitates
an emergency.
A friend from High School recounts
visiting one time,
only to find my mom in a night dress
with a flashlight
weeding the backfield
while cursing
tremendously.
It was sometime after midnight,
and mom was doing,
what my mom always did.
SOMETHING.
She's a night-owl.
Growing up,
it was often video games
or borrowed foreign films from the library.
I'd wake up at 4am to check on her,
and she'd STILL be playing Ecco The Dolphin.
It's hard to guess,
it's hard to question,
it's hard to imagine
until you see it.
She visited,
(surprisingly)
this weekend.
I will remind you
surprise is not necessarily
a judgmental word
although
I admit,
it is more negative
than I at first, assumed.
Anyways -
She joined us and a friend
for an evening of
dinner, dessert, "Hamilton", and conversation
and long after our yawns had started,
at about 1:30am, she decided it was time for bed.
About 2:15am, she knocked on the door.
*tap*tap*tap*
She is locked out of her Hobbit House.
This whole time,
she'd been futzing with it.
I put on shoes and spend 30 minutes locking...
and unlocking her door
to no result.
No entry.
It is not the key.
It is not the lock.
It is the knob.
We engage tools.
Screwdrivers.
We unscrew the knob and the lockplate,
because it is an old mortise lock.
but realize
(too late)
this might not be a good idea.
Too late!
The loose knob
and turn mechanism falls inside the locked house.
Mom wonders if she can 'break in'.
She suggests the biggest window.
I suggest the smallest window,
near the lock
of the biggest window.
She suggests kicking open the door,
assuming
it was a small lockplate
which will do little
or no damage
if she attacks it
with the force
of a 3am panic attack.
I suggest we wait for daylight.
She suggests she would sleep in her car,
then cramp up,
and then have the cops called on her,
due to her dog barking.
I do not follow her reasoning,
and offer a couch,
a blanket,
and answers in the morning.
She worries about her purse
which is locked up so securely in her hobbit house,
that even she cannot reach it.
She fears vandals.
She again suggests breaking down the door.
I again suggest calmer measures,...
literally...the calmest measure.
"Sleep".
She searches the property with a flashlight for an antique doorset...
she specifically remembers because she sold us the property 4 years ago
with several antique door sets SOMEWHERE.
She swears, they are where she put them "last"
and they will assist her jammed door issue.
When my simple suggestions are not heeded,
I follow with keys to the various outbuildings
and a flashlight.
She satisfies herself...
she cannot find them.
I satisfy her,
by finding them
immediately....
once she has given up hope,
and decided to listen to me.....
because I do know where they are
because I have had to move them
more than once.
She is breathing heavily,
in a slow-roll panic.
Sailor wakes up about 3:30am
struggling to sleep
after all of our in/out toolseeking
just as I convince mom
to wait for morning on the couch.
Sailor takes a key to the back fiend and tries the hobbit door...
coming to my same conclusion.
She's fast asleep when we return 10 minutes later.
We get ready for bed again,
she wakes up,
making her way to the couch.
She won't take off her shoes,
(refuses)
and sleeps half-on/half-off
in the predictably most uncomfortable way
you can possibly lay on a couch.
Sailor and I go to bed
after doing
all we could do
for now.
In the morning,
I wake up to Sailor having already identified the problem,
fixed the lock,
opened the door,
had bought -and was installing- a modern deadbolt.
Mom was pleased as punch
and doubly grateful
while I make breakfast for everyone.
No real emergency.
Much like past incidents.
But, certainly
an inconvenience.
But that's it.
An inconvenience.
I know many
who struggle
to know the difference
between an inconvenience
and an emergency.
My mom,
is my case study.
But, she is safe.
We are safe.
There are no fires,
no injuries,
all pets and persons involved
are healthy.
A locked door.
A dead car.
An unbalanced truckload.
A heavy object.
A hole in the deck.
An early rainstorm.
Being late for an appointment.
Whatever it is,
it is PROBABLY
an inconvenience.
But how do you explain that
to someone
who is busy panicking
and defensively asserting
the emergency situation
of all that FEELING
they are feeling?