The other week at the resthome after I delivered a tray to the wife of a husband-wife couple who moved in recently, the wife asked me to cut up her food for her, since she told me that she had a terrible time of holding the knife and fork the other day when she had to cut up something on her tray.
"It's cheese blintzes tonight," I was like. "Do you still want help?".
"Oh," she was like.
Then, she was like, "If you're not able to cut a blintz, then you know there's a problem."
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