The other week this one resthome resident with memory issues was a bit disgruntled when I got her up from her nap to go get ready for dinner.
A bit later, she said she had a date that night.
"With me?", I was like.
"No, with someone good-looking," she was like. "And if you have a problem with that, go take it up with your parents."
. . .
(I might have already posted this, but I didn't see it on my blog already and it's too good a story to let die, so I'm just putting the story up as a post again, and if it's a repeat, so be it.)
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment