CUTBACKS

Peg has suggested she cancel her subscriptions to the New Yorker and New York Times Review of Books.

"They just pile up and pile up and I never get to them!" she says, like this is news. I've been busily grabbing handfulls to pitch whenever she's out or not looking, for about five years.

"It seems silly to keep on paying for something I don't read!"

"Quite. Good idea, Mama."

"Honey, I need to save money where I can!" 

"You're right."

"But I don't even READ them!" she argues, like I'm trying to put the kibosh on this plan.

"I KNOW, MOTHER! I AGREE WITH YOU! YOU DON'T HAVE TO TALK ME INTO IT!"

So. That'll be about $120 saved.  Which will cover two Terri overnights plus one hour of daytime help, whoopee.

Next on the agenda was TRIMMING STAFF HOURS. My idea, but she grabbed it for hers.

"I don't want anyone here during the day interrupting me! I need to get some work done! Cripes, I'm so behind!"

"Yes. Well. I think, Mother, you need someone there--now and then. At least. Maybe to begin with we try just shaving a few hours off everyone's schedule. How's that?"

"Good. Yes. Good thinking," says Peg. "I'm fine during the day."

So I email Bonnie and we discuss this back and forth and back and forth and finally come up with Bonnie'll leave an hour earlier and Terri will arrive an hour later and Dominick and Bob will cut an hour off their days too. Bob is not happy with this but there is so little for him to do in the winter he couldn't really argue. Next thing is, Peg's on the warpath. She woke up at 4 PM and it was dark and no one was there and she didn't know why or what time it was or what day it was, or anything. And panicked.

"I'm so goddamned mad, they can all just leave, that's all, just LEAVE. They're all FIRED!"

"Mother. Wait--what are you mad at, WHO are you mad at?"

"Why did she act so surprised that I wanted a puppy! Of COURSE I want a puppy!"

"Who? Terri? Who acted surprised? Bonnie?"

"No! On the phone! About what's his name. Honeybear!"

"The dog lady? Carol Ann?" We've jumped. Onto collies now. And Honeybear aka Spurn is female, not male. CLUE: she had puppies!

"And when I said you should have Saturday off I don't need you here all weekend she said she needed the money, John doesn't pay her when she works on Wednesday at his office and I'm all the income she has!" Jumped again. Back to Bonnie.

"I can't come to England until I can walk!" Back to her health. "My voice is better though, don't you think?"

"Much better."

 "I have to drink a glass of water every hour the woman said and not cough or clear my throat so much.  I want my dog back, goddamn it!"

And on it goes. Yesterday she rang to tell me, all excited, that her friend Steve in Florida told her she needs a humidifier, that's why her skin is so dry and her scalp. How he can see this in Florida, I don't know, but What Steve Says, goes. I told her to set pans of water over the heating vents but I can see Bob being sent off to Wall Mart for $200 worth of humidifiers that will be filled once, maybe twice, then forgotten. And left for me to dispose of, eventually. 

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On the Home Front, England side, met with builders today re the New Peg Hut in garden. If we are happy with the quote, work will start the end of April. Meanwhile, I am in Gingerbread Mode and making decorated anchor-shaped ornaments for the Anchor and personalized hearts for everyone this side of the A12 plus one to send to the son's girlfriend in Switzerland. Whose huge box of extra crap she couldn't fit into her suitcase that she mailed off to her address a month ago, came back yesterday because it seems her sister in Zermatt couldn't be arsed to go to the post office to collect it, and so it is now under our piano. Where I guess it will stay since no one's answering me when I ask what the fuck I'm supposed to do with it, so perhaps will drape tinsel around it for Christmas.