Not happy.

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I was well into my sleep, needing more, when she called up.  Wanted to go to town.  Not thinking straight, I said I would.  As I was getting ready, I was sure we discussed this.  No more running.  Besides, isn't she broke?  Complaining about money?

I let it slide this time, but we had the first of, probably, several talks.  Going to town costs in gas and energy.  She will need to have a list, and be ready to shop, on her and my medical appointment days.  If she pushes, it will be $15, cash up front, a pop.  If she balks at that, I'll add $10 an hour on top.  I'm either an excellent or terrible negotiator, depending on which persective.  I put a price, then go up from there.  Never down.

I'll be reminding her.  She needs vaping stuff.  I won't run for that.  Her bad habit, her efforts.  She best have her list by my next appointment, and go with to get it.  I'll buy groceries I will eat, but not things I can't eat.  I will split the list, even go for more.  But I won't go as a shopping companion.  I wouldn't even do that for my lover types.  Though with her, it's more can't than won't.

Gloves, potting soil, herbacide, and annuals... flowers.  I warned her those were expensive.  Since she has been in the nursing home, prices have doubled, tripled, or more.  While I often still moderately support Trump, prices aren't coming down.  The rise of prices may have slowed?  But even that hasn't stopped.  She... disregarded my warning, but learned.  Annuals are $20 a pot.  Which is why, part of why, I don't bother.  But anything that is just for a summer, or not edible, isn't getting my money.  As I remember, more, many don't survive the transplant.

She was going to spring for dinner.  But I paid.  Happy or not, some of what she needed was for ongoing efforts.  Wasn't going to make her pay for all and everything, and or cook tonight too.  Wendy's, if the most unaffordable fast food.  But, there it was.

She was tinkering.  I came up to rest, blog, and go back to sleep shortly.  Later, or good night.