Last night

Mr. Payne came home yesterday about 5:30ish. I was napping in my chair, and Moma had gone back to her room at some point during my nap. She hates for me to nap. We chatted while he unpacked and brought in his things. She didn't get up until supper. She barely ate before she headed back to bed. All was quiet on the home front until about 2 am. Kerry woke me up and said, "Go see what your crazy grandmother is doing". She woke him up whacking her cane on the door of her room hollering "HEY". I got to her room to find her sitting in her bath chair, looking like the cat who swallowed the canary. As I entered her room, I saw her blankets and sheets strewn all over the floor. Her pillows were bare. She had stripped off the pillow cases. I said, "What in the world?? Why did you do this?" She looked like a 4 year old. "I didn't do that! Some womern came in here and pulled all them off and said, 'Now you fix 'em'". I was re-making her bed at 2 am. The urge to kill is at an all time, scary, high.