Since my husband died nearly a year ago now, my foster-daughter has turned into a mother hen!
How do others deal with kind advice, offered politely, out of the goodness of her heart, but maddening?
Lastest example: I have a bruised couple of toes at present, as a heavy cast-iron pot stand had by some mysterious means adhered to the pan I had stood on it, and fell off, as I was carrying said pan to the sink.
I had, of course, not noticed I was carrying the pot stand as well as the pot.
Third and fourth toes of my right foot are badly bruised and sore, but not broken. I am 72 and was a dancer in my young days, so I know exactly what to do with bruised and sore feet and am doing it, with remarkably good results two days after the accident.
But the dear girl has started the "you must ALWAYS have your mobile phone on you" song-and-dance act she revels in.
I have told her that none of my pockets are large enough to accommodate the phone safely, that I cannot have it in a pouch hanging round my neck, as I have never been able to bear anything hanging round my neck and that I have no intention of carting a handbag around with me everywhere!
I have also told her that my phone is usually more-or-less within reach.
Do I really have to tell her that if I fall down with the phone on me and need to use it to call for help, that the blasted thing will probably have been broken when I fell?
Or bite her head off and say that I lived ALONE from the age of 16 to that of 48 in a world without mobile phones. I went out and about on my own at the late hours performers do on their way home after work, walking or taking night buses, as I seldom could afford a taxi and never could afford a car?
Or do I have to put up with the dear girl treating me as if I were senile, or otherwise of diminished capacity because I LIVE ALONE?
I did not chose to be widowed; God made that choice and I am living with it, but I refuse to be nannyed!
Rant over.
Helpful advice gratefully received on how to shut her up!
