"Everybody Loves Raymond," - Except Me | Previous Challenge Entry

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TITLE: "Everybody Loves Raymond," - Except Me | Previous Challenge Entry
By Judith Gayle Smith-Owens Vitouswykegardinerclark
01/18/18
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"Everybody Loves Raymond," - Except Me

Once upon a time, I splattered almost choking laughter watching this sitcom - spaced out once weekly. Now I watch it over and over again, thanks to my sister - who loves to stay up to 3:00 in the morning. We have all the DVDs - the entire series. Too inert to change the DVD after each play, we just play the same DVD at least four times daily. Because sis loves Ray and Robert and Frank. Her penetrating shrieks of laughter almost keeps me awake.

I became subliminally hooked on an ad for "Once Upon a Time" on Netflix. I watch it while Barb sleeps curled up like the little butterball she is - until 3:00 in the afternoon, most days. Listening to her snore, so comfortable - I fall back asleep during what I like to almost greedily waste my time on ("Once Upon a Time") and wake up to Ray and the gang yet again. Too late to return to Netflix. Barb cannot grasp the crazy switches from homesteads and castles, good conquering evil, almost every fairy tale character changing personalities and addresses. I like it because it is entertainingly enchanting, and I, being barely focused, cannot engage in other matters - I am sluggishly, albeit entranced watching this.

We are two not so little cute and cuddlesome old ladies, sharing a welcoming, but small bedroom. I am bored silly. Barb joyously romps and keeps making her jewelry on her trinket cluttered bedspread. I broke my twin bed about two weeks ago. You would not be bored by my attempts to leave it for such excitement as going to the bathroom. I take my mega-size now empty cup of water to replace what I too often eliminate. I am too fast becoming a wimp, a less than dull person, a veritable drone. And back to the boudoir to find a ladylike way to fall back onto my bed without spilling a lake on the Mickey Mouse carpet. Yes, Mickey and Minnie are here, and I placidly wait for their creator, good ol' Walt Disney granted power for spilling joy all over the room. They are cross-eyed sedated quietly inert. So are we.

My boredom is not catching, and Barb bubbles and burbles crating her beauteous baubles. She is so sweet and cute I want to pour my water on her head. I better not antagonize her. She is a "brownie," doing good things for me as they come to her mind. Pot pies for breakfast, with banana or oranges. She gets hungry at midnight, and the hot frozen apple pie with large scoops of vanilla ice cream is happily placed in my too willing hand. My overstuffed mind refuses to cooperate with my over-surfeited tummy. I have not so joyously gained 23 pounds over the Holy Days (not holly daze) - if only I could lumber while I slumber.

Lest you think I am complaining overmuch for my so very comfortable accommodations, I willingly chose this life, being too tired to ask for the excitement I had at the Rehab Center. Ever play Bingo in a rest home/rehab domicile? "B..............................................................................................................6." What appears to be a full minute, "B...................................................................................................................6." I understand the time factor to help all the folks playing, but it alarms me that I am slowing down to the point that would probably even keep this old gal awake. Barb beads her masterpieces while playing Bingo, so that would really work well for her.

Come to think about it, a rest home sounds like a lot more fun - we are looking into it for liveliness and excitement. But I am too bored to seek them out on the computer.. So I will curl up with my huge teddy bear, stuffed with my late hubby's ashes. Comforting. Sleep inducing - speaking of which, my doctor started prescribing sleeping pills for me.

Dearest Father - please take my self satisfying and/or self pitying away, so that I can be restored to who I was when I still had my beloved hubby to be my muse and amuse me. It has been eight months now, and I am bored with my ennui. Thank You for being the true reason I exist. Help me to bloom where I am planted. Teach me how to blossom to let Your Fragrance is what people sense when I enter a room. I am so bored with being so blah.

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