a ten-minute phone call that was nine minutes longer than I wanted

I was feeling as if I owed Good Sister a phone call to Mom. I feel as if I've paid my dues now. I'll spare you the details, most of which are hard to follow and in many cases imaginary anyway. Suffice it to say that Mom's cranky, demented complaints started about half a minute into the call and continued for the duration.

I gave GS the synopsis. She wisely asked me to write it up for the United Sister Front's archives, and I just did so.

Talking to Mom is getting increasing unpleasant and, I think, increasingly pointless. There really is nothing to her but hurt feeling and delusions anymore. She called me her "former son" instead of her daughter. Good Sister points out that she has good days and bad ones, and you never know in advance which kind she's having. Well, I know about today: it is not a good brain day for her.

The guardian may not be doing all we'd like him to do for asset recovery, but I feel sorry for the guy having to deal with my mom on a regular basis. GS says he's had worse, including at least one schizophrenic, but still, that's the level of bananas that we're approaching here.