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LJ Idol Week 15, Prompt Lalochezia
Aug. 11th, 2022 04:30 pmA/N: Given the prompt, do I need to warn for excessive bad language? ;)
I do not own Dammit Dolls (although I do own one) and you can buy your own at dammitdolls.com. I do not own the Harry Potter universe either. No copyright infringement is intended.
Thank you to susandennis for sending me a tutorial so I can now post pictures on DW. Thank you to sparky955 for all of her beta help and her extreme patience with how late I have gotten my piece to her recently.
As always, all names have been changed.
Whenever things don't go so well,
And you want to hit the wall and yell,
Here's a little dammit doll,
That you can't do without.
Just grasp it firmly by the legs
And find a place to slam it,
And as you whack the stuffing out,
Yell, "Dammit! Dammit! Dammit!"
I bought my first Dammit Doll (pictured above) from Books-A-Million in 2013 when I started a new job as a hospice chaplain. I named her Huff due both to her Hufflepuff coloring and that I was in a huff when I used her. I had not worked full time in a decade, so it was a huge change. I was hired as a hospice chaplain due to my people skills, but then was made to sit at a computer for eight hours a day for training purposes for almost a month. Huff was the only reason my work laptop did not go flying out of a third story window. She actually lived in my laptop bag.
I eventually mailed Huff to a Live Journal friend, who needed her more than I did, and purchased Dammit Dolls for many of my coworkers, usually as birthday gifts. Many computers were saved in this fashion. My fellow chaplain did not receive one because he refused to even say “dammit doll” and insisted on calling them “Darn it dolls.” All of the rest of the dammit doll recipients rolled their eyes at him. I replaced Huff with Rainbow who is unfortunately missing after our recent move. I was dismayed when Rainbow was not where I thought she was and I could definitely use her lately, especially in having to deal with my mother and unemployment.
Last week my husband Arthur and I ordered take-out from a local Greek restaurant. They always send way more food than I need to eat, so I told Arthur I would share my pita with him. He said, “We already share a P.I.T.A. Her name is Kay” (my mom). I burst out laughing. He said he was being bad, but I reassured him it was true. We actually often refer to my mom as “The Dementor” after the joy-sucking critters of the Harry Potter universe. My mom and I have never been particularly close, but did bond in caring for my dad. We were always both very close to my dad, and now that he isn’t here, we are having difficult times again, but thankfully nowhere near as bad as decades ago or even several years ago.
My mom had a stroke in 2017 and when I traveled to Missouri to help, quickly realized she had been providing much more care for my dad than I had realized. It became apparent my parents were not going to be able to remain in their home, so I moved them to Alabama to live near me. I single handedly packed up their house and sold it, while Arthur set up Assisted Living for my parents. My mom was released from the hospital sooner than I thought she should be, because I am sure the hospital staff was tired of dealing with her. She complained constantly. My mom is difficult, high maintenance, and passive aggressive on a good day, and we did not have a good day for quite awhile.
When she first came home, it was awful. The stroke had damaged her vision and she was worse than blind because somehow between her eyes and her brain the information got jumbled and she “saw wrong.” She got lost in the house where they had lived for thirty-eight years. She refused to use her walker, and whenever I would leave the room to go pack something or do laundry in the basement, I would immediately hear her wandering around.
About a week after getting my mom home from the hospital, I woke up to walker-banging noise. I really wasn't ready to get up but had no choice. At least my mom was using her walker for once, and I could get an early start on the day’s goal of having everybody take a shower. My mom had not showered since coming home from the hospital which was completely unlike her since she always has wanted to be impeccably groomed and dressed. She didn’t want me to help her. My dad also hadn’t showered in five days, and I hadn’t in three because I couldn’t leave my parents alone. As my mom was healing she was becoming more high maintenance. All of us were stinky and I felt gross, and getting all of us clean was a huge accomplishment. I also cut my dad’s toenails which were sticking out an inch past his toes. I don’t know how he could walk. Both of my parents were whiny about lunch. I was ready to strangle them. Yes, I needed to go to the store so options were limited but if I had whined like that when I was a child I would have been spanked, even if I was sick at the time. I managed not to cuss at either parent, but it was a near thing. I spent the day texting people to pray I didn't kill my mom. It was the only day my dad had been at all difficult, so he had a pass. I was trying to finish packing up some things before I showered and went to the store, but if I left the room one of my parents would ask where I was and then couldn’t hear the answer without my coming back into the room.
I finally did manage to shower and got to the store. There was nobody else to go for me, and none of the grocery stores had delivery options then. Although I didn’t have a choice, I should not have left my parents alone for a second. I'm thankful nobody got hurt. When I walked in with the first load of groceries, my mom said, "Molly?! Is that you?! I'm lost." I found her in the living room without her walker. After about half an hour of questioning I managed to piece together that someone had come to the door. And my parents tried to answer, in spite of having the conversation that morning that we were not expecting anyone and to not open the door if someone knocked because anyone who was coming would call first. But they both got upset at hearing the doorbell and were running around without walkers. My mom actually went into the garage (which requires going down steps) and brought a bag of trash back into the house saying the man at the door had left a bag somewhere. Despite running around without walkers, neither of them actually got to the door in time to open it! My mom said she wanted to help me unload the groceries, and honestly I almost lost it. I still managed not to cuss at her, but I yelled at her, “You have a Coke! There’s a baseball game on! Just sit on the sofa and do not move!!!” I made sure she sat and got another load out of the car. Then I heard in a small voice, "I have to tinkle." *facepalm* So I helped my mom get to the bathroom, finished unloading the groceries, and went to investigate the mysterious stranger who might have left a bag, (He was probably there to repossess the car. My parents did a payday lender loan with 120% interest, W.T.F?!!!!!) and I locked myself out of the house. The neighbors probably heard my cussing. I had to get one of my parents to get up and come let me in. It took forever to get them to hear me, but at least when my mom came, she used her walker. But strangely, she unlocked the door and immediately got lost in the dining room. I wished I had packed my dammit doll.
When we put their house on the market, my parents had to sign the paperwork, since I did not have Power of Attorney for them. My dad’s stroke affected his fine motor skills, so he signed extremely slowly in order for it to be legible. My mom’s stroke damaged her vision so this process that should have taken at most half an hour took three hours. The realtor was extremely patient, and when I walked him to the door, he looked at me with a horrified expression and said, “I am so sorry you are dealing with all of this. May I give you a hug?” I accepted the hug. I’m pretty sure he understood that he had seen my parents on a good day, when they were on their best behavior and could probably imagine what I was usually dealing with.
I thought when we finally got them moved to Alabama, that things would get much better immediately, but I was wrong. My mom complained about their Assisted Living Facility constantly. I received at least two phone calls per day from the facility, and I visited every day in person. One call would be complaining about my mom or something she did, and the other would be alerting me my dad fell. My mom whined constantly. “Where is my fill-in-the-blank-of-whatever-random-item-she-wants?!” The answer was usually “sold in the estate sale.” “Why didn’t you bring my fill-in-the-blank?!” “How could you not bring my fill-in-the-blank?! I NEED it!” Prior to moving my parents to live near me, I had managed not to shop at Walmart for a decade. (That’s a story for another time.) I was at Walmart every day for the first two weeks I was back in Alabama. My husband Arthur and I were paying for my parents’ facility, which cost more per year than I made, and my mom wanted things constantly. I lost it when she wanted me to buy her placemats. “You don’t have a table!!! You eat in the dining room!!!” I still didn’t cuss at her, but I certainly did at home to get it out of my system. Arthur decided I needed a higher rated version of my dammit doll, so I decided to call the Dammit Doll a Fuck-It Fairy.
My mom hated Assisted Living so much she worked really hard at her physical therapy and made my dad work really hard at his physical therapy. As a result, they got well enough to no longer need assisted living and were able to move into a rent-controlled senior apartment after a year. Since the apartment cost a tenth of what assisted living had, they could pay for it themselves. Then we actually had money for fun things, and life greatly improved.
The past year, my cussing has been over being unemployed and especially over the paperwork that goes with it. Every week my calendar has had the item, “Do Unemployment Shit.” This week I decided to eschew my usual procrastination and finish it early, but when I went to the website, there was no need to file weekly certification because it has been a year. There was a message saying I would have to refile for unemployment, even though my case is still labeled as pending. I had a tantrum and began searching for my dammit doll, I did not find her, but I did finally write the poem for the Fuck-It Fairy.
When things happen that are bad,
And you are so extremely mad,
Here’s a fiery Fuck-It Fairy
To help you through this time.
Grab it by it’s legs or arm and
Ere you tell someone to suck it
Beat the shit out of the sofa yelling, “Fuck It, Fuck It, Fuck It!!!”
I do not own Dammit Dolls (although I do own one) and you can buy your own at dammitdolls.com. I do not own the Harry Potter universe either. No copyright infringement is intended.
Thank you to susandennis for sending me a tutorial so I can now post pictures on DW. Thank you to sparky955 for all of her beta help and her extreme patience with how late I have gotten my piece to her recently.
As always, all names have been changed.
Whenever things don't go so well,
And you want to hit the wall and yell,
Here's a little dammit doll,
That you can't do without.
Just grasp it firmly by the legs
And find a place to slam it,
And as you whack the stuffing out,
Yell, "Dammit! Dammit! Dammit!"
I bought my first Dammit Doll (pictured above) from Books-A-Million in 2013 when I started a new job as a hospice chaplain. I named her Huff due both to her Hufflepuff coloring and that I was in a huff when I used her. I had not worked full time in a decade, so it was a huge change. I was hired as a hospice chaplain due to my people skills, but then was made to sit at a computer for eight hours a day for training purposes for almost a month. Huff was the only reason my work laptop did not go flying out of a third story window. She actually lived in my laptop bag.
I eventually mailed Huff to a Live Journal friend, who needed her more than I did, and purchased Dammit Dolls for many of my coworkers, usually as birthday gifts. Many computers were saved in this fashion. My fellow chaplain did not receive one because he refused to even say “dammit doll” and insisted on calling them “Darn it dolls.” All of the rest of the dammit doll recipients rolled their eyes at him. I replaced Huff with Rainbow who is unfortunately missing after our recent move. I was dismayed when Rainbow was not where I thought she was and I could definitely use her lately, especially in having to deal with my mother and unemployment.
Last week my husband Arthur and I ordered take-out from a local Greek restaurant. They always send way more food than I need to eat, so I told Arthur I would share my pita with him. He said, “We already share a P.I.T.A. Her name is Kay” (my mom). I burst out laughing. He said he was being bad, but I reassured him it was true. We actually often refer to my mom as “The Dementor” after the joy-sucking critters of the Harry Potter universe. My mom and I have never been particularly close, but did bond in caring for my dad. We were always both very close to my dad, and now that he isn’t here, we are having difficult times again, but thankfully nowhere near as bad as decades ago or even several years ago.
My mom had a stroke in 2017 and when I traveled to Missouri to help, quickly realized she had been providing much more care for my dad than I had realized. It became apparent my parents were not going to be able to remain in their home, so I moved them to Alabama to live near me. I single handedly packed up their house and sold it, while Arthur set up Assisted Living for my parents. My mom was released from the hospital sooner than I thought she should be, because I am sure the hospital staff was tired of dealing with her. She complained constantly. My mom is difficult, high maintenance, and passive aggressive on a good day, and we did not have a good day for quite awhile.
When she first came home, it was awful. The stroke had damaged her vision and she was worse than blind because somehow between her eyes and her brain the information got jumbled and she “saw wrong.” She got lost in the house where they had lived for thirty-eight years. She refused to use her walker, and whenever I would leave the room to go pack something or do laundry in the basement, I would immediately hear her wandering around.
About a week after getting my mom home from the hospital, I woke up to walker-banging noise. I really wasn't ready to get up but had no choice. At least my mom was using her walker for once, and I could get an early start on the day’s goal of having everybody take a shower. My mom had not showered since coming home from the hospital which was completely unlike her since she always has wanted to be impeccably groomed and dressed. She didn’t want me to help her. My dad also hadn’t showered in five days, and I hadn’t in three because I couldn’t leave my parents alone. As my mom was healing she was becoming more high maintenance. All of us were stinky and I felt gross, and getting all of us clean was a huge accomplishment. I also cut my dad’s toenails which were sticking out an inch past his toes. I don’t know how he could walk. Both of my parents were whiny about lunch. I was ready to strangle them. Yes, I needed to go to the store so options were limited but if I had whined like that when I was a child I would have been spanked, even if I was sick at the time. I managed not to cuss at either parent, but it was a near thing. I spent the day texting people to pray I didn't kill my mom. It was the only day my dad had been at all difficult, so he had a pass. I was trying to finish packing up some things before I showered and went to the store, but if I left the room one of my parents would ask where I was and then couldn’t hear the answer without my coming back into the room.
I finally did manage to shower and got to the store. There was nobody else to go for me, and none of the grocery stores had delivery options then. Although I didn’t have a choice, I should not have left my parents alone for a second. I'm thankful nobody got hurt. When I walked in with the first load of groceries, my mom said, "Molly?! Is that you?! I'm lost." I found her in the living room without her walker. After about half an hour of questioning I managed to piece together that someone had come to the door. And my parents tried to answer, in spite of having the conversation that morning that we were not expecting anyone and to not open the door if someone knocked because anyone who was coming would call first. But they both got upset at hearing the doorbell and were running around without walkers. My mom actually went into the garage (which requires going down steps) and brought a bag of trash back into the house saying the man at the door had left a bag somewhere. Despite running around without walkers, neither of them actually got to the door in time to open it! My mom said she wanted to help me unload the groceries, and honestly I almost lost it. I still managed not to cuss at her, but I yelled at her, “You have a Coke! There’s a baseball game on! Just sit on the sofa and do not move!!!” I made sure she sat and got another load out of the car. Then I heard in a small voice, "I have to tinkle." *facepalm* So I helped my mom get to the bathroom, finished unloading the groceries, and went to investigate the mysterious stranger who might have left a bag, (He was probably there to repossess the car. My parents did a payday lender loan with 120% interest, W.T.F?!!!!!) and I locked myself out of the house. The neighbors probably heard my cussing. I had to get one of my parents to get up and come let me in. It took forever to get them to hear me, but at least when my mom came, she used her walker. But strangely, she unlocked the door and immediately got lost in the dining room. I wished I had packed my dammit doll.
When we put their house on the market, my parents had to sign the paperwork, since I did not have Power of Attorney for them. My dad’s stroke affected his fine motor skills, so he signed extremely slowly in order for it to be legible. My mom’s stroke damaged her vision so this process that should have taken at most half an hour took three hours. The realtor was extremely patient, and when I walked him to the door, he looked at me with a horrified expression and said, “I am so sorry you are dealing with all of this. May I give you a hug?” I accepted the hug. I’m pretty sure he understood that he had seen my parents on a good day, when they were on their best behavior and could probably imagine what I was usually dealing with.
I thought when we finally got them moved to Alabama, that things would get much better immediately, but I was wrong. My mom complained about their Assisted Living Facility constantly. I received at least two phone calls per day from the facility, and I visited every day in person. One call would be complaining about my mom or something she did, and the other would be alerting me my dad fell. My mom whined constantly. “Where is my fill-in-the-blank-of-whatever-random-item-she-wants?!” The answer was usually “sold in the estate sale.” “Why didn’t you bring my fill-in-the-blank?!” “How could you not bring my fill-in-the-blank?! I NEED it!” Prior to moving my parents to live near me, I had managed not to shop at Walmart for a decade. (That’s a story for another time.) I was at Walmart every day for the first two weeks I was back in Alabama. My husband Arthur and I were paying for my parents’ facility, which cost more per year than I made, and my mom wanted things constantly. I lost it when she wanted me to buy her placemats. “You don’t have a table!!! You eat in the dining room!!!” I still didn’t cuss at her, but I certainly did at home to get it out of my system. Arthur decided I needed a higher rated version of my dammit doll, so I decided to call the Dammit Doll a Fuck-It Fairy.
My mom hated Assisted Living so much she worked really hard at her physical therapy and made my dad work really hard at his physical therapy. As a result, they got well enough to no longer need assisted living and were able to move into a rent-controlled senior apartment after a year. Since the apartment cost a tenth of what assisted living had, they could pay for it themselves. Then we actually had money for fun things, and life greatly improved.
The past year, my cussing has been over being unemployed and especially over the paperwork that goes with it. Every week my calendar has had the item, “Do Unemployment Shit.” This week I decided to eschew my usual procrastination and finish it early, but when I went to the website, there was no need to file weekly certification because it has been a year. There was a message saying I would have to refile for unemployment, even though my case is still labeled as pending. I had a tantrum and began searching for my dammit doll, I did not find her, but I did finally write the poem for the Fuck-It Fairy.
When things happen that are bad,
And you are so extremely mad,
Here’s a fiery Fuck-It Fairy
To help you through this time.
Grab it by it’s legs or arm and
Ere you tell someone to suck it
Beat the shit out of the sofa yelling, “Fuck It, Fuck It, Fuck It!!!”
