It is a wonderful feeling to help out a loved one,but, wait to see what happens next. |
Helping our loved ones should be paramount of course. Please do not let me discourage any good deeds you are planning to do in the foreseeable future. Recently, my son and I decided to take a little holiday. We booked an adequate room at a respectable Hotel close to where my eighty-one year old mother lives. We planned a little fun catching up and some wonderful cuisine a la New England style. Naturally, we had all the good intentions of helping the lovely dear with some of her heavy-duty chores. Day one, we worked our bollocks off, lifting, scrubbing, hauling, dragging, and emptying years of collectibles in various bins and bags. Following a hefty workday, we went to a fine seafood establishment to dine. Stomachs full and energy renewed, we returned to her apartment to finish a few odd jobs. Day two, after a night of sore muscles, tossing and turning in those oh, so crisp and clean hotel sheets that never quite fit into the corners properly, and inevitably go "pop" in the night; we return to that sweet old dear's hell hole for yet more bone crunching, muscle straining, foot swelling little deeds of kindness. Did I mention we managed to grab some lunch at a quaint little place in Ipswich, well known for its fried clams? ...Yummy! Sorry, I’ll get back to the story. The remainder of the afternoon was spent driving and playing parking space tag with pesky patrons of the renowned “blue light special” store for odds and ends needed to complete the project we started. We return another time to hell's gate, where mercy does not exist, to hang curtains and place the various other purchased items where they needed to be. By the end of that evening, all was well. We finished our job and were proud of our accomplishment. Finally, as the moon peeped through the impending darkness we headed for the door. After kissing the sweet, innocent old lady goodnight, we planned to get back to the hotel and go for a quick swim in the refreshing indoor pool. Did I say, swim? That idea died almost instantly. We dragged our aching butts up to our room, showered, and attempted to watch a little television. Realizing it was a lost cause, we shut it off, and tried desperately to block out any trace of light oozing in from whatever crevice in the doorway. We closed the draperies hanging over the sliding doors leading to the balcony and begged God to please blind those annoying, large, bright red LED lights on the clock radio. This time fatigue made it impossible to even notice the sheets were still wrinkled over the crumpled, ill fitting mattress pad when sleep took over. The next morning, thoughts of freedom crept into my brain. I am going home. I am dragging my son out of his hotel efficiency style sofa bed and I am taking him home. We had a delightful breakfast at a Cracker Barrel restaurant off the highway. Yes, it was a new day, and I was finally drinking my coffee. I patted my son on the back for his meritorious efforts in helping out his aged grandmother. We laughed a bit, enjoyed our breakfast, and anxiously headed back home. As we entered the house, I thought of the uncomfortable two nights at the braggadocios hotel, "we have great linens," blah, blah, and decided to wash my very soft and smooth cotton sheets so that restful repose and relaxing dreams would be guaranteed. Talk about the “pooh” hitting the fan! Precisely as that final rinse cycle came around, right in the middle of stuffing those peppers for supper...boom! The door flies open and water just starts gushing out everywhere! As it rose rapidly, I knew, the floor, the surrounding appliances, and I would sink helplessly down into the basement. Luckily, as I screamed for a lifeboat, my son ran to the rescue. The brave and brilliant boy threw himself onto the washing machine with all the grace and energy of a fifteen year old, while reaching far behind it and turning off the water valve. Saved! Okay, so we had to mop and sweep water out the nearest door, we survived the flood. As I sit here, high above the floor that once was dry, I pondered over the weekend that was, the holiday that wasn't, and remembered the words that had been said so many times before ...”No good deed goes unpunished". I managed to get those sheets dried and on my bed. Maybe, just maybe, I will finally get a good night's sleep. Therefore, to all my altruistic friends, I say, be light of heart and laugh a lot, do a good deed, no matter where it will lead. |