My (most of the time) adorably funny grandmother just spent the last few minutes taking my son’s socks out of his drawer and throwing them into the garbage one-by-one. The de-cluttering of his dresser was followed by emptying the cutlery drawer and putting all of the spoons in her purse. All of the placemats were removed from the table and stuffed behind a picture or her and my grandfather on their 50th wedding anniversary. She served the cats four bowls of water, and a Oreo and then concluded her morning chores by stuffing two jackets, one slipper, and a brown furry hat under a chair cushion. Exhausted, she plopped herself down and asked when the party was going to start?!?
“I don’t know, Gram, but the house looks great!”
“I heard that he was coming back for the party.”
“That’s not what the professionals said.”
“Oh, Grandma, you are pretty funny.”
She flashed that loopy toothless grin at me, patted my shoulder, and handed me ten bucks for the bus.