Talking to untitledmother this morning, I find out that she has signed up for Meals on Wheels (elderly nutrition program designed to feed anyone over 60 of limited financial needs or physical/mental capacity). She pays them $2.50 per meal, and they deliver lunch to her work every day.¬ “So what are the qualifications for a program like this?” I ask, a bit puzzled by this revelation. When I think of Meals on Wheels, I imagine a malnourished 80 year-old woman opening her home’s front door. She balances her lunch tray on the top of her scooter as she makes her way back to her kitchen table. She says grace, thanking god for the food. She’s happy she won’t have to eat cat food for the second time today, for it gives her the wicked shits and hemorrhoids that drape like jungle vines.¬
“You just need to be a senior citizen,” untitledmother replies, chomping on her kill, chicken ala king, in between sentences. She’s 64 years old, so you’d better believe that she’s card-carrying and ready for her discounts. “This way, I get one good meal each day during the week.”
One good meal each day? I’m trying to recall here‚Ä¶ when has untitledmother EVER been a stranger to a good meal? She eats breakfast, lunch and dinner out every single day. She keeps a can of Spanish peanuts in the drawer of her living room end table and a Snickers bar in her purse, you know, just in case. She’s not even five feet tall, and she’s about 130 pounds overweight. Take a moment and visualize that, people.
She hires someone to mow her lawn and scoop her snow. She hires someone to clean her house. The only thing she has to do is her own laundry (which isn’t often, due to the sheer volume of her wardrobe) and bathe herself (which again, isn’t often). When your hair is so greasy that it stands up like a row of soldiers at the nape of your neck, it’s time to wash. She is clueless as to what’s going on in the back 40, because that would require using a hand mirror. Again, extra effort.
I said to her, “Mom, if you don’t use it, you’ll lose it.” But I don’t think she cares. My perception of Meals on Wheels was food for homebound people who would otherwise starve. I had no idea it was intended to be a crutch for those too lazy to lift a butter knife or nuke a bag of popcorn.
I think the true motivation for untitledmother is 1) Meals on Wheels is cheap, so it frees up money for her shopping and fake nails addictions, and 2) it’s easier to sit on your ass and wait for your food to magically appear than it is to walk a half a block and a flight of stairs to the nearest greasy spoon.
I am just beside myself with shame over this woman. Her selfishness. Her laziness. Her greed. Her gluttony. untitledhusband tells me that I need to work on seeing the good points in people, and quit dwelling on the things I cannot change. I suppose he’s right. But every time I reach a more zen-like state, someone in the family has to go and do something stupid. I suppose eventually, untitledmother will install a pneumatic tube in her house, so she can poop without leaving couch.