Okay, I'm ticked.
We are ticked.
One of the daughters stopped in for a visit and we are grateful for that.
During the course of the evening she casually mentioned that we should consider moving into assisted living quarters. "This place is just too much for you," she said.
Okay, so the vacuum cleaner has not been run in over a week, the layer of dust on the horizontal surfaces is less than an inch thick, and the cob webs sparkle in the light hither and thither.
The lawn is mowed and edged, the gutters are clean, and from the outside no one can see what is inside.
Darn few people ring our doorbell.
Actually, the woman may be right. But please allow us a few moments of disgruntlement. I mean, we thought she would be the one that would want us to move into her home when we reached our dotage.
(While the above is true, I share it in fun. No one is mad at anyone. I think.)