From Horror to Despair

When it was her parents' turn to hold the bunko party, Fiorella, of course, was exiled to her room to do her homework, so she listened... in horror... and, jotting down their dialogue, wrote one of her best short stories. Would-be writers--if you know how to listen, the stories are all around you.
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Fio likes to keep a neat house--a place for everything and everything in its place--but that seems to be impossible when one is also clearing out said house for sale. Translation: it's is a mess.
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Whenever Fiorella stops by Target for whatever, she also checks out the children's clothing racks because she's determined that her granddaughter will be dressed in style. It's a thing with grandmothers of girls--grandmothers of boys won't understand.
     Addendum: Both of Fiorella's grandmothers had died by the time she was four, but her mother inherited a Singer sewing machine complete with treadle and could whip up cute dresses out of things like tennis flannels. She could also crochet and embroider for finishing touches. And you wonder where Fio got her artistic talent 🧡
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Your girl has gone under the knife so many times that it's a wonder she's still alive. Wait a minute--those surgeries are WHY she's still alive.
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Fiorella just came in from a two-and-a-half hour drive around lil' ol' Georgetown and is bursting with anger. She had four simple errands on her list: buy sticky notes at Target; check in with her heart doctor's nurse to pick up a standing order for her coumadin finger prick; get a PC power cord at Best Buy so she could find out if Lolly's chapters were still in her old computer; and take a couple of pounds worth of Husband's medications to a pharmacy for disposal.
     She had no trouble buying sticky notes, but the nurse was at lunch so Fio will have to call later, the Best Buy clerk told her she'd have to contact Dell for the cord, and after driving around to two different pharmacies and the police station--where she was told their barrel was full--she threw a mini-fit and said she'd dump it all in her own trash can, which she will.
     And her kids wonder why Mom doesn't get more done!