My parents fucking drive me crazy. In brief, I explain it like this: whatever things need to happen or whatever task/project needs to get done, my parents will choose THE most complicated way of getting it accomplished. You know the garage door story, right?

So my parents live in a massive house with a 3-car garage. Since at least as far back as 2016, the damn door openers (circa 1986) have slowly started to deteriorate, meaning that they don’t respond reliably to the remote controls. When things first started getting wonky, John and I tried all sorts of small fixes like buy a new remote or program the car remote… we had varying success. At first, the issue was that you’d have to press the remote repeatedly or you’d have to hold the button down. Soon, the problem progressed to having to park the car at a very specific spot on the driveway and pointing the remote at a very specific spot on the garage door. Then, it turned into dad having to press the door button from inside the garage and runing out from under the closing door to my waiting car. When we’d arrive back home, we’d sit in the running car, parked one inch from the fucking garage door, and spend about 3 minutes fidgeting with the damn remote. Eventually, I would lose my shit and use the house key to go in the side door into the garage and press the door button. Around Christmas time, I noticed there was a dent on the garage door. Dad had pulled up a little too close to the door. When I was home again in June, the roof of the car had a scrape, bc dad didn’t pull out the car in time as the door was coming down. Fed up with this bullshit, I researched a garage door repair man, which my father claims he had done two years ago. My dad insisted that the problem was the new steel garage doors– they blocked the signal from the remote. Whatever. I don’t care the reason, I just want it fucking fixed!

So I call this repair guy that I researched, tell him the problem, and immediately, he says it’s all the other devices (wifi, microwave, first responder systems) with competing wavelengths that jam the signal. The fix is a new door opener at $350 each. I ordered two, scheduled the repair, and done two weeks later. The point is, my father could have easily spent $700 and fixed the damn issue years ago. Instead, either he was being cheap or lazy or whatever, so he damaged the garage door, damaged his car, and got me pissy every damn time I was home. See? The most complicated answer ever. God forbid, he use money to solve the problem and make life easier. SMH.

When I was in Taiwan, I realized that my parents were eating a lot of frozen foods and crap. My relatives would bring them fruit and veggies, but since my parents no longer cook, their diet has resorted to whatever foods the relatives brought but once that ran out, they were subsisting on a combo of frozen stuff, fast food, and or eating out/leftovers.

Part of the problem is, Taiwan is hotter than fuck. Like 90+ degrees with insane humidity which makes the heat sweltering. Their condo, while nice, is not conveniently located near walkable food options. And they aren’t in good shape anyway, so even walking a short distance is problematic. The other issue is that parking in the city is impossible. No parking and/or the garages are super complicated– not air conditioned, dark, hot, and just not good for old people.

So I keep telling them, they need to order delivery, and they make no progress. I mean, mind you, Chinese is not even my native language, and yet here I’m scrambling around in the dark searching for answers. The last time I was in Taiwan, I found some local food stalls/shops and asked if they delivered. Nope. Only do take out, so you have to pick it up. What? I refuse to believe the option of food delivery does not exist.

This time I was in Taiwan, I asked my cousins (who are my age) thinking they are modern professionals who should know about services. No fricking clue. Seriously, WTF. I’ve lived in China; in general, labor is dirt cheap in Asia. I will not accept that food delivery in the second largest city of Taiwan is not available!! Finally, as I was driving my parents around, I saw all these food delivery motorbikes buzzing around the city. The coolers on the back said Food Panda and Uber Eats. Done. Went home, downloaded the apps, added my credit card and shit and started ordering. Lots of options including boba, desserts, AND most importantly homestyle dishes– not too greasy or salty. I showed my cousins and even they were surprised by how cheap it all was. The dish prices were the same as in store $4-5 USD and delivery was 50 cents to $1 USD. For reals, I’m telling you: cheap labor is everything. So while I was there, we tried three different restaurants, the delivery people arrived, checked in at the front desk, the receptionist let them up the elevators, and bam, 20 minutes later, hot, fresh food at our doorstep. My dad enjoyed the fish (he always picks seafood over meats) and my mother tried a meatball dish that my grandmother used to make for us. All of it good– plus side vegetables and soup! And enough for left overs. Seriously, I was patting myself over the back for finding one of the best solutions ever.

Of course, now I’ve returned Stateside and a week later, how many times have they ordered lunch using UberEats, (which I even set up for them on the iPad so it’s large enough to read)??? Zero. I was lamenting to my friend G yesterday that I’m just so damn frustrated by my parents’ stagnation. If they have analysis paralysis from too many choices, all they have to do is press three buttons: Open UberEats >> Past Orders >> Reorder. But no. They are retarded. And it pisses me off to know end, bc once again, they have to pick THE most complicated way of living life.

G commented that I’m being unkind with my namecalling. She offered the perspective that they are really old, and we’ll be like that when we’re old too. Um, of course, anything’s possible. And I have a feeling I’m going to get Alzheimer’s and/or dementia like my grandmother and mother. But fuck: so long as I have my wits about me, I am not going to retire and turn into a helpless and hermetic blob.

I have met plenty of seniors who are even older than my parents, and they are still vibrant, sharp, energetic, and lively. My maternal grandparents even, until their 90s, attended activities daily– mahjong, dance, political debate/lectures at the Senior Center. People I met through my volunteering. People I met living in my mother-in-law’s community: crafting, singing, and laughing! Look at all the older than fuck Congresspeople having political debates and reading legal dockets and shit. I’m just asking my parents to press three buttons.

It’s about mindset. My parents CHOOSE the more complicated path. They CHOOSE to be miserable.

Here’s the deal: I get it. Life is full of disappointments. I know they had big dreams and huge hopes, and their kids disappointed them. They’re depressed and unhappy. Take the time you need to wallow. Been there, done that. In the end though, you gotta get back up. Use anti-depressants to help if needed. Look, unless you’re going to commit suicide, there’s no excuse for giving up and being lame. Obviously, I’m not talking about people who are terminally ill, too weak, or like my mother who has a cognitive disease… I’m just saying: not everyone has the advantage of resources. Use that advantage to help your damn self.

And don’t look to me for compassion or empathy. I grew up with both mom and dad as cray, cray tiger parents. Do better, goddamnit.