Madder than a wet setting hen

I stopped by to visit my 88 year old mom Wednesday night and she was "madder than a wet setting hen", to use one of her expressions. I'm a city (or town) boy.  I wasn't raised on a farm so I don't exactly know first-hand what a "wet setting hen" is.  I suspect this is a chicken who is obligated to sit on a nest of eggs but has had the unfortunate experience of being rained upon and is not happy about it.  (Of course, if it was a Presbyterian hen, it was predestined to be rained upon.) That's my guess but I could be wrong.  The last person I wanted to ask for clarification tonight was my mom.

It seems that the woman whom we pay to come to her house once a week to pick up her grocery list, buy her groceries, and take care of a few things around the house was late again.  Four and a half hours late, to be precise.  Actually, that's nothing new  . . . Lori is always late and her tardiness is always measured in hours rather than minutes.  Although this has become routine, I guess this time just pushed my mom over the edge.  Lori arrived just a minute after I arrived so I got to witness the whole uncomfortable exchange between them.

I've never been 88 years old but I imagine that it can have its challenges under even the best of circumstances.  My mom was crippled from a fall a few years back, can no longer drive, and must depend on others to take care of some of her basic needs, like shopping.  Although healthy in many ways, she suffers from arthritis and pain related to her previous injuries.  She's fiercely independent and stubborn, to boot (whatever to boot means).  That is a recipe for frustration . . . and tonight the conditions were right for the perfect storm of frustration for her.  What was funny about it was that her frustration carried over to things not related to the tardy woman. She was just mad, in general. That's true for all of us, isn't it?  Sometimes the conditions are just right (or wrong) and all of our frustration just boils over. 

Truth be told, my mom's tired of living. It's a hassle for her now and she's resigned to the fact that her best years are far behind her.  She's tired of sitting on the nest and being rained upon and consequently, she's "madder than a wet setting hen."  Oh, well.  Tomorrow is another day and maybe the rain will stop and the sun will come out and she'll shake it off her feathers and go on. I hope so.  Too bad that she's a Baptist rather than a Presbyterian or I would just hope that she was predestined to dry off and be happy again!