The Houseguest

Leo and I have opened an assisted living facility and, as everyone knows, the elderly can be a mixed blessing.

Our only resident is Sampson, a snowy haired gent who closely resembles a lightly upholstered football.

His primary hobby is snoozing.

Snoozing and eating. And scratching on the cupboard door where the food is stored, just in case there might be more eating to be done. You never know.

Sampson, or Sam as he likes to be called (he's embracing being one of the boys), was feeling poorly when he arrived. A little droopy and sneezy and blowing snot bubbles of remarkable proportions out of his nose. He took great exception to having his face wiped. Exception in the form of biting the hand that wiped him. The elderly can be so fractious.

Time and the miracle of modern pharmaceuticals have improved his health and hygiene to the point that he is all for taking an active role in whatever social life there is to be had.

Field trips.

Eating out.



Romance...

...that sometimes lands you in jail.