The creaking of Granny’s rocker doesn’t really bother me. But her wheezing sounds do. Heeesshwho. Heeesshwho. Then she starts that load of doo-doo about her funeral. One Sunday a month I get to see her and all she does is go on and on about death and dying and how Great Uncle Albert embarrassed everyone at Great Aunt Celia’s funeral by making bodily noises throughout the eulogy.