A crack of the one retired psychiatrist at the resthome.

The other day, I was working at the resthome, and I was assisting the one retired psychiatrist again, and he asked me to search in his closet for his knit cap, since he needed it at night again since the weather was getting cooler out.

I finally found it in his front coat closet, and it was this very thin tight-knit acrylic cap that fit close to the head, and after I dug it out and handed it to him he pulled it down over his ears and far down onto his forehead.

"You know," I was like, "In that cap, you look kind of hip-hop, [the retired psychiatrist's first name]."

"Don't mess with me, motherf*cker," he was like, without missing a beat.

. . .

A word confused by one of my (Tibetan) coworkers.

The other day when I was starting up my shift at the resthome, I was asking for updates on different people who I'd be working with that day, and a couple aides told me that this one (very old) man had gotten regular milk at breakfast instead of the soy milk that he's supposed to get, and that he's lactose intolerant.

"All day he have motion," one of my (female) (Tibetan) coworkers was then like.

I didn't quite get what she meant, so I asked her to repeat herself, and she said something roughly the same and I didn't quite get what she meant again and so I asked her to repeat herself again, and this happened a few more times before finally this one (filipino) coworker of ours broke in and started saying something about his bowel "movements," and I realized then that my one (female) (Tibetan) coworker must have mixed up the words "movement" and "motion" in the phrase "bowel movement," maybe because of English as a non-native language proficiency stuff from her growing up in India.

A dream of the weird.

The other week I dreamed -

I was in a basement, and off this paved hallway was a cinder block room, and crumpled up against the wall was this (very thin) (very pale) woman in a bridal dress, and it looked like there was a light powder over her and her dress and around the part of the wall that she was laying against, though you could tell it was all different things and not just one layer of powder over everything or anything like that.

Next thing you know, she eased up creakily and then we were out in the hallway and she was walking beside me, and I realized she was a constituent and she was telling me about problems that she was having in the neighborhood.

I wasn't ill at ease, but I never looked directly at her face, and I was mildly suspecting that it was skull-like, or at least sunken in where the flesh was close up against the bone, and her hair was blonde and stringy in this little bonnet that had some black base fabric that the light veil was tacked onto, almost country-like, even, and at that point her dress wasn't bridal anymore, it was full and black, like from some thick material.

. . .

Another tale of one of my (Tibetan) coworkers.

My one (male) (Tibetan) coworker goes gambling every now and then at this one casino across the state lines.

A few months ago, he won $25,000 on the slots, and he still hasn't told his wife.

The other day, then, he was saying how lately they've been sending him coupons where he can stay overnight there for only $25, and so he can get a free buffet.

"I like buffet," he was like.  "It's so good, you can eat whatever you want."

It's interesting, too, this one (female) (filipino) woman who works as a private aide was telling me the other day that this other (filipino) woman was so thankful to her for her getting her some work, that she took her out to dinner a month ago, and this one other time to a casino out in the suburbs.

I've never worked at a job before, where so many of my coworkers go to casinos.

Two tales from the resthome where I work.

1) This one resident who's a bit serious lives in room 420, and the other day she wore a (melon-colored) tie-dyed hoodie.

When I was escorting her back to her room the other week after dinner, then, I explained the "420" thing to her, and then I was like, "Between that and the tie-dye, you better be careful, or people might start thinking you're a pothead."

"Perhaps," she was like, laughing.

2) The other week, one of the front desk workers said that this one woman who works in the front office had taught him a new word:

"twatwaffle."

He was googling it, to see how it was used, and he asked me if I knew it.

Man, am I busy.

Between my campaign and my jobs, I'm so super busy.

My jobs are nice enough, but what with the commute and all, forty hours becomes fifty, every single week, and my job at the resthome is really physical where you're always running around all the time, so you get tired out a lot.

I've noticed that I've been putting "shv" (shave) and "nails" on my to-do list, so I can cross them out as accomplishments for the day for the days when I do them.

Sometimes, too, I plan on doing them at night, but I simply don't, I'm so tired.

I have to shave more, too, since I need to look cleancut for when I go out campaigning.

Addendum: I have to restrain my sense of humor.

I really do have to restrain my sense of humor when I talk with voters.

The other week, I was talking with some voter and we had really good rapport going and then they mentioned the neighborhood rat problem.

So, I put on a bit of a bombastic character voice and was like, "You know, what I say is, let's start up some more activities for kids like archery lessons, and then the city can sell them licenses, and then they can go out and kill the rats.  You keep the kids busy, the city makes a little money, and less rats, it's win win win!".

Then, the voter gave me a blank stare, and I thought "Oh shit," so I just gave an honest answer like I didn't even make the joke, and I thought to myself that I'll never do that again.

The things I do for the common good!

I have to restrain myself.

On some level, it pains me.