At the salon

My sister dared me to post this.

* and now you know what my sister is like and conversely me.
There are three of us, I am in the middle. For the last four weeks my sisters and I communicate daily, see each other often and seem to be right back in time, say 1960, when all we did was argue.
It is now a toss up as to what causes me the most stress: my mother's condition or dealing with my sisters.
The other night when I was with my mother, the first thing she asked was: "Are those other women gone yet?" I assured her that they were. Even when a person has dementia, being around my sisters is too much.