In theory, I’m going down to visit grandma today in Wallingford. She was supposed to call me this morning and tell me when it would be suitable for me to come down and visit; when I called her about going yesterday, she was all flustered, and said it wouldn’t be a good day, and could I come on Tuesday (today)? I said yes, and asked when. She said she’d get back to me.
I suspect that grandma has had an episode of some sort, and she’s worried about being dressed or presentable when I come visit. She’s really worried about propriety these days, and I know that her bladder doesn’t really behave as properly as she’d like. Age can be terribly debilitating; she’s ninety-two (93 in February), and dad doesn’t think she’s going to last that much longer.
On the other hand, h’es been saying that for six years.
I’m going to go do a couple of errands — post office, bank, etc., and then call her.