The weather has an unexpected result. An entire population here at Elder House is...well...gone.
Smokers were long ago banished to the driveways and sidewalks around the building. There are still plenty who smoke indoors as the stale fragrance in the halls will attest. But, since the snow of the past few weeks, the hard core smokers cannot be found. No butts tossed into the bushes. No clouds of second hand aromas waft into my windows. Where are these people?
Beer drinkers, too, seem to have disappeared. I've heard some of my neighbors in the hallway plotting together to organize "runs" to the liquor store around the corner. A resident rides his bicycle and comes back with big glass bottles loaded into his plastic carrier. Like a drug deal for the elderly I guess. When the snow is too deep or the ice too treacherous for him to make the trip the crankiness levels of drinkers in early withdrawal (ever so temporarily) escalate exponentially. Doors slam. Yelling occurs late into the night. One resident has begun singing his lament at around four in the morning. He may be the next to vanish. Death by grouchy I bet.
And all the walkers of all the yappy little dogs have become invisible. I hate to imagine where all the yappy dog excrement is being stored. Perhaps they are all using an exit farther away or maybe the yappers have learned to use a toilet. This is scary.
Yesterday my kitchen sink exploded and I had a waterfall for almost six hours. Drenched carpet and filthy dishes. Brand new yarn was soaked. Warped book cases. I desperately joked with the plumber this morning that as he rodded out the pipes that he would find a dead dog.
I wasn't kidding and, I admit, I was kind of hoping. It would have explained a lot.
Smokers were long ago banished to the driveways and sidewalks around the building. There are still plenty who smoke indoors as the stale fragrance in the halls will attest. But, since the snow of the past few weeks, the hard core smokers cannot be found. No butts tossed into the bushes. No clouds of second hand aromas waft into my windows. Where are these people?
Beer drinkers, too, seem to have disappeared. I've heard some of my neighbors in the hallway plotting together to organize "runs" to the liquor store around the corner. A resident rides his bicycle and comes back with big glass bottles loaded into his plastic carrier. Like a drug deal for the elderly I guess. When the snow is too deep or the ice too treacherous for him to make the trip the crankiness levels of drinkers in early withdrawal (ever so temporarily) escalate exponentially. Doors slam. Yelling occurs late into the night. One resident has begun singing his lament at around four in the morning. He may be the next to vanish. Death by grouchy I bet.
And all the walkers of all the yappy little dogs have become invisible. I hate to imagine where all the yappy dog excrement is being stored. Perhaps they are all using an exit farther away or maybe the yappers have learned to use a toilet. This is scary.
Yesterday my kitchen sink exploded and I had a waterfall for almost six hours. Drenched carpet and filthy dishes. Brand new yarn was soaked. Warped book cases. I desperately joked with the plumber this morning that as he rodded out the pipes that he would find a dead dog.
I wasn't kidding and, I admit, I was kind of hoping. It would have explained a lot.
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