I used to be an Activities Director at a retirement community. I LOVED working with the elderly, but I noticed a disturbing trend. The moment they moved in to the community, they forgot every skill they no longer needed. This was INDEPENDENT living, and most all of these people moved straight from their own home, where they’d been living alone. Day Two would go like this:
(Ring, Ring) Me: Hello?
Senior: Hello, This is Sally Ellison in apartment 2120. Can you please come and flush my toilet?
Me: I’ll send John right up.
I mean, they would be awesome, active people. They played bridge, went on trips, balanced their checkbooks, but if there was someone around to do the job FOR them, they’d pass. Not everyone obviously, but enough to annoy me. Okay, maybe just that one lady, that one time, but I’m easily annoyed.
Anyway, I used to work in Atlanta. I worked for writers off Freedom Parkway, photo labs on 10th, and a photographer in Buckhead. Then I moved to the suburbs and suddenly I’m like, ME? Drive to Atlanta? But that would entail the IN-TER-STATE. I am Granny Grunt, driving 30 miles an hour in the fast lane with my blinker on for 12 miles.
What happened? I don’t know, but it’s scary. Contrary to popular belief, I don’t have a lot of skills left to lose. I’m pretty much down to sarcasm and turning on the TV, and that remote is starting to mess with my head.