The day started out normally.
I woke up, prepared breakfast for Nana and myself — two slices of toast for me, and a couple of eggs for her. Nothing special. If I knew how to make anything fancy, I’d probably have a job in a restaurant and make much less money than I do presently.
I provided my grandmother with her pills, one for cholesterol, one for blood pressure, and one for memory loss, and I also took my own, one for depression, and one for anxiety.
Then, I received a phonecall from my mother. Why she couldn’t be staying here and providing day-to-day care for her own mother instead of me, a 19-year-old who has her whole life ahead of her, I don’t know. Apparently, I’m going to get some sort of benefit out of it when Nana and I both move back into my mother’s house, but as of yet, I’m unclear on what that benefit will be.
She informed me that she was on her way over to the condominium so she could drive me to my 11 o’clock psychology class at the community college. I rolled my eyes, thankful she couldn’t see, and bid my goodbye before hanging up.