URINETOWN

I have reports from Bonnie of a recent issue concerning two of the turquoise plastic tumblers Peg likes and which usually live on the shelf opposite the dishwasher along with the other ones. 

Seems Bonnie walked into the downstairs loo, smelled urine (stronger than usual, that is) and spotted two turquoise plastic tumblers on the windowsill, both with an inch or so of liquid in them. Took a whiff. Urine. No question. One glass had an "X" marked with masking tape  on it, the other a sort of "T". Bonnie rand Terri, currently in Alabama moving her son into a new apartment, to ask if she knew what was going on.  Terri said it was a Peg project of some sort, to ask Peg.

Peg, it seems, while observing her catheter bag, worried she was not producing enough urine, so decided to keep track. Using NOT the two plastic urinals sitting there in plain sight (leftovers from Odd), but took two blue plastic drinking glasses from the kitchen.

Bonnie, appalled, pulled on surgical gloves (which she uses for almost everything including taking meat off chicken thighs), emptied the urine into the loo and took the tumblers out to the laundry room where she proceeded to wash and bleach and disinifect nine hundred times then left to dry by the side of the sink.

Two days later she comes into work and stops dead, spying these two blue glasses--still marked with tape so she knows they're the same--on the drying rack next to the kitchen sink, indicating that Dominick, who was on call the day before, had washed them and set them there, no doubt having used the nice dish sponge they use for all the dishes--all of which was too much for Bonnie to bear, who then threw out the glasses and the sponge and scoured the sink and I think the whole kitchen and possibly county and is maybe wearing a protective jumpsuit with goggles as I write. (Hope she doesn't have a heart attack if she ever visits my house). I have to remind myself that while she may be over the top sometimes in matters of hygiene, the place always looks and smells immaculate and nothing's ever growing anything in the potato drawer or getting squishy in the fridge and Peg is still alive, having no opportunity anymore (as she did with a couple of previous housekeepers) to poison herself with stuff that should have been pitched but six months later Peg is still dipping into saying "It's pefectly FINE!", like taramasalata.

My mother, in any event, did not take kindly to her science experiments being interfered with. Not only that, at one point she claimed it was not urine in the glasses, it was "her liquid medicine" that she "always took at night", an admission which of course gave pause for thought (not to mention retching) until Bonnie finally figured out Peg was talking about coconut water, which her fan Steve suggested she take every night.

"But Peg, " Bonnie told her. "That was NOT coconut water in those glasses. Trust me."

So who knows. But heated words ensued, no surprises here, all of them Peg's, and once again, she told everyone to go home, that she didn't need anyone looking after her.

I rang yesterday evening when I got in from dinner. Peg was alone, had just awakened from a nap. Unsure of who was coming to stay that evening (join the club) and then giving me a hard time about depriving her of a dog and reiterating that she can't go anywhere (meaning England) until her legs get better. Which you know and I know ain't going to happen. And now if you'll excuse me, I need to go fill the kettle from the toilet.