The pillow-topped mattress cover stands among the 21st century’s most nefarious inventions. Sure, it’s machine washable — only then it takes three and a half days’ worth of tumble drying (while you’re stuck reciting the necessary incantations out of the Necronomicon Ex Mortis in properly-accented Kandarian) before it’s ready to go back on.
Also, I’m about 40% certain that ••••’s is made out of human flesh. (It came to us from an old folks’ home, along with my grandmother’s haunted mattress.)
My Grandmother has been hospitalized with heart failure, I’m in a nursing home, and my parents are basically raising my child.
It’s been twelve days since my hair has been washed, twelve days since I’ve last eaten, and I really, REALLY have to pee.
Now I find out that the nursing home doesn’t actually have a pharmacy at its disposal; it takes time to order and receive prescriptions.
And the nurse’s assistant spilled the contents of the bedpan all over my skirt AND the bed. She put a pad over the bed and said they’d change the sheets tomorrow. The skirt she threw in with my clean clothes.
And these motherfuckers are supposed to reteach me how to walk?
To top it all off, I have a roommate. More on that later, I’m sure.