Crack House

If this ain't a crack house, it ought to be. Either I need it or Moma does. In fact, after this afternoon, I am wondering if she didn't smoke her some while I was at school today. Let me explain....
When I got in this afternoon, Moma was dead asleep, with the oxygen on. Connie said she had had a good day, but felt bad and went to bed. She told me that she was sleeping really good. Ha! I fell for it. Connie had no sooner backed out of the driveway when I heard the cane clicking. "Julie....come show me how to turn that ole thang off (oxygen). I've tried and tried and I can't get the thang to turn off." Great....She's been turning knobs and switches on her concentrator. She soon started taking on about how bad her tail hurt, and somethings wrong with her, and her head feels crazy. I let her go on....I was tired....a little sleepy, and a LOT ill. Seems like the older I get, the less I want to talk or maybe I am tired of repeating everything I say and screaming everything I say. I admit..I dozed off in the recliner, and she must have gotten up (and done God knows what). She came back into the den, and sat on the couch. "Did you wake up?" she asked. "Sit up and talk to me!" She talked and talked until I wanted to just scream. Kerry came home, and got in his recliner, and began to doze. She got very loud and very busy talking. Kerry said, "Is she on drugs?" Then my sister called, and inquired about her. I said, "Oh she is fine as wine". Sherry said, "Well, I can tell a big difference since we have taken her off that A____ (bp med, can't spell it)" Well apparently then, she is back to her old self. She probably doesn't need the oxygen anymore. But somebody is going to be drugged. Her or me.