Worries, worries.
9:03 p.m.
He came over the week before and I wrote down all the instructions, he chose his very own code which I programmed into the panel, and then I drilled him in the process of setting the bypass for the windows (one of them has malfunctioned, telling the system it’s open when it isn’t, but we don’t know which one), setting the alarm, opening and closing and locking the garage door, waiting a minute, and then reentering and disarming the system. After several runthroughs, he had it.
The second thing was that I had not informed my mother I would be away, and worried that she would call and I would not be there to answer her.
When we arrived home on Sunday night, there was no red light lit on the alarm panel. Grandpa Mike had dutifully set the bypass, but had neglected to arm the system on his way out. At least he’d locked the door securely and Hubby’s guitars were all still there. The answering machine was blinking and beeping, though, with four messages. When we played them back, each and every one was from my mother.
She called yesterday and today again with exactly the same complaint as she’d left on the machine, that she was miserable and wanted to get the hell out of there. She called back today just as I was on my way out the door to go to choir practice asking me if there was some kind of conspiracy to keep her from contacting family members, as she wasn’t able to get through to anyone. I reassured her that there was no conspiracy and then said that I had to go.
She can’t contact family members because they’re all dead. She’s the oldest living member of the family now, and there are very few of her generation still alive. But she doesn’t remember any of this.
Okay. I’ll stop there or this will become about me and my mother again. I’ll save that for when I really need to unburden myself.
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