Attica! Attica!

My grandma is crazy and reluctantly in the nursing home for psychiatric supervision. She walks with a walker she doesn't usually need and she still has good upper body strength. This will be important later in the story.

Today was an unusually bad day for grandma. She decided after noon that she wanted to leave the nursing home and go up to the dollar store. She wants to do that every day, but, this time, she was adamant. She called up my mom (her daughter-in-law) and told her to come bust her out. Mom said she had to be to work in five minutes, so it was too short of notice. Grandma started swearing a shitload and said she may as well be dead instead of having to deal with "you people". And by "you people" she means us bastard relatives who can't leave work to be her taxi service.

So she was in a bad mood and went to the dining hall to sulk. They were setting up the Monday afternoon bingo. Joan the really nice bingo volunteer starts calling numbers, and grandma starts swearing at her to quit talking so fucking much and then lets loose a string of expletitives and accusations at her that would make a sailor blush. This starts a chain reaction of other old people remembering things that also piss them off, and they start complaining. "You always kick me under the table." "You always chew with your mouth open." "The food here is terrible." "That nurse is ugly." Etcetera.

The head nurse comes in with some orderlies to try to calm them down. My grandma, in her feeling-vindicated state, picks up her walker and hurls it at the head nurse, and shouts "Shut up you red-headed slut!"

They may be upping her psychiatric meds soon. Ah, well. The orderlies thought it was great.

(Maybe she's just upset because it's the 41st anniversary of the Kennedy assassination.)