The other week I was thinking about the one resthome resident who really wanted to die, how I had that running joke with her that we didn't want her to die, but if she did die, she had to take Trump with her.
One time, I said that, then I said that the only problem with that is that they were going to different places.
"I'll push him down," she was like, sitting in her little armchair and making a pushing-down motion in front of her as she held her elbows out.
Another time, I said that whenever she did pass, if Trump was still president, she'd have to see if she could pull a few strings up there and see what she could do about it.
And, she held her fingers out like a machine gun, and she made a shooting choo-choo-choo-choo-choo-choo-choo motion down in front of her, like she was shooting a machine gun down from heaven.
(The reason she came up is because my one [cool] [Muslim] [Ethiopian] coworker said that she misses her, "She was so nice," and I shared those stories with her. She laughed a lot from them. I also texted the stories to the reisdent's daughter, who I still stay in touch with, and she got a kick out of them and shared the text with her brother, too. They said that they appreciated the visuals.)
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