Sometimes I amaze myself, I really do. Ebay and old technology, what a godsend it is.
Poor old Mrs Buttcheeks has been having serious problems with her mum, the poor old soul is on a downward spiral of dementia. Thankfully, we live in a small village where most people know each other. Which is just as well really, since this week alone the old soul has escaped her house and managed to walk into our neighbours house, and also the house of a couple across the back garden from us. In fairness, she did get two cups of tea and a bit of cake. We're now thinking of making her t-shirts with her address on it, so she can be more easily returned.
Anyhoo, I digress. The worst of the issues just now is bloody keys. House keys. HER house keys and her lack of ability in keeping the things where they can be found...by her. She has locked herself in. She has locked herself out. She has locked carers in also. All this means that our phone is red hot, and the conversation usually start with "It's just me. I've lost them again, hen !", and to which the reply is "AARRGGHH Mum, for f**ks sake. I'll be round in two minutes". Two hours later, my caring wife returns, dust covered and moaning that we'll need to get another set cut because the keys can't be found.
Enter Mr Buttcheeks, resident genius.
My wife being new to the joys of online shopping, has just had a paypal and ebay account set up for her by my good self. Perfect thought I, lets get her sorted with a nice wee easy purchase to get into the swing of it. The conversation went thus,
Mr B..."Got a great idea. Look and see if they still do those whistling key ring finder things on ebay"
Mrs B.."Those what?"
Mr B..."Those fobs you put on your keys, and if you lose them you simply whistle
and they beep. Ideal for your mum, if she looses her keys again, you'll be able to find them in the house".
Mrs B.. "Brilliant, that'll save getting keys cut"
Mr B..."Yep"
Mr Buttcheeks now retires to a comfy chair, gloating in his genius.
Two days later, speedy ebay transaction pops through the door. One less problem for my wife to tear her hair out at, thinks I.
Nope, because Mrs Buttcheeks can't whistle.
If I could only half describe the attempts by Mrs B, the breath wasted, the saliva dribbled, the lips numbed, in the vain attempt at setting the fob off, it would still not do the scene justice. I'm sure my son and I were on our way to passing out from laughter.
Back to the drawing board.
Anyone want a mother-in-law?
