Fio, who knows how to stage a scene, dressed in her best clothes, then spent the whole day working like a dog on her bedroom for Daughter's visit. Said daughter complimented the room, but little did she know it was all a charade.
Fiorella and Son L have de-boxed most of Mother's pretties and kitchenware, but, as Fio had predicted to herself, most of them were things Son's wife already has or does not want. Fiorella understands that kitchen cupboards can only hold so much, but she weeps not only for the fate of the lovely glass and porcelains but also for the long hours she wasted carefully packaging each and every one of them.
Okay, Fiorella will admit it--she ate two chocolate bars for lunch today and two for supper, even though she knew they'd kick up that dang gerd again. (They may call it "upset stomach," but Fio labels it "depression.")
Pray for Fiorella. There are still two rooms full of boxes of non-kitchen items to be plowed through.
On the other hand, although Fio wants it to be adjusted and have some touch-ups, one of your girl's paintings is hanging in the front door entry hall now.
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