Productively Destructive

Well, after submitting grades, I came home and continued wrapping Christmas presents. I got a bunch wrapped last week, but I still had some left. It would take less time if I didn't make boxes for all the small (and some of the not-so-small) gifts, but it wouldn't be nearly as much fun! I might post pictures of some of the nicer ones if I ever find my digital camera again...

Anyway, I got a bit stir-crazy from just sitting and wrapping and folding and taping and tying, so I wandered over to Grandma's house tonight. While there, I put Mom's work-table together and mostly got her storage cabinet together. I ran out of nails for the back panel, presumably because I grouped them closer together than the manufacturers had intended. So I need about 6 more nails, then we can stand the thing up and put on the doors and shelves.

Oh, the box for the cabinet was sitting out in the garage. Mom and I had left it there because we were both exhausted the night she bought it. It weighs at least 80 pounds if not 100. Naturally, I decided to move it by myself. Getting it to the door was no problem. Getting it in the door took a bit of creative manipulation (I could not lift it, but I could shift it). So I got it in. Got the door closed. Then I had to figure out how to line it up so that it would slide down the stairs. A push here, a shift there...and then it was lined up, all right...BOOM! It slid down and crashed into the doorjamb at the bottom of the stairs. "Oops," I said, hoping there wasn't too much damage. In retrospect, I should have made the final adjustment while I was below the box rather than above...though I'm not sure it wouldn't have just knocked me over. The damage wasn't too bad: the bottom foot of the door jamb is rather cracked, but that's about it. And I can either replace that or cover it over so it's not visible. My mom was horrified that I had even contemplated moving the box by myself, but she was busy practicing her songs for Christmas Eve so I didn't want to bug her. *shrugs*

I'm worried about Grandma, though. Every time I've seen her lately, she's been depressed. I cheer her up a little bit, especially when I'm being exuberant (Mom asked me to take out the trash, so I rushed over, grabbed it out of her hand, ran for the back door and the street-side trashcan, and raced back; Grandma actually smiled, for probably the only time that night, then she called me "ornery"). Also, I'm taking her to dialysis tomorrow, and Grandma didn't remember that I had already done this for her a few times. Only twice, but it wasn't that long ago. It may just be a side effect of all the junk they've been doing to her lately, but it's not encouraging. I hope as she starts to heal from her last bout of surgeries that her memory and mood both improve.