And last night, before heading off to work, Grandmother fucking confronts me again: "Where did you put my papers?" she asked while holding her passport. She flipped through the pages, indicating that she was missing things she thought were in it, and once again she accused me of doing something to them. Only she wasn't wildly flipping out like she was Sunday night -- I think.

"I'm not talking about my checkbook," Grandmother disclaimed. I could take that one of two ways. Either she remembers how she reacted Sunday night and wants to put that behind her, which would be good that she understands her unruly behavior. Or, she said that in a, "I know you did something to my checkbook, but I'm not worried about that now" sort of way. Which would, you know, suck and reinforce my belief that she needs to be put in a home.

She then said, "OK, I'll look again." I was on my way out; I told her just before I went to the bathroom, and she, as is her wont these days, cornering me with something just before I go. Her checking her bedroom again can also be taken one of two ways: Either she's saying, "Maybe I was wrong," or "Fine, I'll take care of it." I'll take the former, but I have a bad feeling it's the latter.

Just to be safe, I went downstairs and immediately told on her to Father, who went upstairs to check what was going on. He went back downstairs almost immediately. I don't he did anything. In fact, I think Grandmother told her something to get him off her back, and now she's angry at me for ratting on her. I could totally see her getting back at me.

Man, I just want her to fucking leave me alone today. I'll take just one fucking day. Please.