The other week, I was telling the one resthome resident with a gruff voice that I had stocked up on groceries and I had also gotten more toilet paper and a new handle of whiskey, since I had been running out of them.
"You can have me over," she was like.
"It's only enough in an emergency for one," I was like, and at that she flung her leg out and stood like she was mad, her hands on her hips.
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