This is Deanna, my father's 5th and 7th wife. She and I hated each other. Not so much overtly - just a nice deep-seated hate covered by platitudes.
Now, in retrospect, I can appreciate how this was a product of secrecy and lying on my dad's part. To both of us. But I was 12 and she was in her mid-30s - maybe she should have seen the problem at the time? She did marry him twice.
The one item that encapsulated my entire tenure with Mistress Stick in her Ass was one day when something happened. Either I got hurt, or I felt really sick, or I got strep throat and I went to see Deanna to get help. She looked at my throat and said, "Well, it's going to get worse before it gets better." And she walked away. No - take an aspirin. No - gargle with salt water. No - can I help. Just the smug comment "It's going to get worse before it gets better."
Our relationship didn't improve after that. Although it wasn't hugs and highballs before that.
Her hair always looked exactly like that. It could withstand a 20mph gale and not budge. To be fair to her, I sure that is how my father liked it.
As for the kitchen. My father worked on job sites and often the workers would take the "extra" crap from the job. That wallpaper was, I swear, cool in 1972.
I think her often when I am sick. And since I have fractured ribs, I hear people say "it will take time to heal." But Ed will joke with her words, "Well. It's going to get worse before it gets better." And now it makes me laugh everytime.
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