Of course, I knew Doug was coughing up a lung on Sunday, so I wasn't surprised that his upper respiratory ailment had come back to haunt him. I was kind of surprised when I knocked on the back door and no one answered. I phoned the front desk, and an office worker let me in.
Kevin wasn't interested in losing my attention, so I passed him off to the office worker. He gave her a rock "the color of her birthstone." She gave him a sack lunch and a drink.
The kitchen was dark and gloomy, but I finally found all of the light switches. Doug has been gone many days, but surprisingly the place was clean. I took inventory and set some cardboard boxes on the back porch. Kevin had rearranged his earthly goods and had placed his very best rocks on display. He told me to choose any one I wanted. I chose a lovely polished tiger eye, naming it as I reached for it. His hand came out, and he retrieved the stone. "Choose something else," he offered. I got a polished amethyst, and at his insistence, a quartz crystal. When I asked where he'd found such lovely rocks, he indicated that only he could have that information.
Still, to have left without a picture would have been a crime, so I asked Kevin if I could take his picture for Hottie (that was true). As I held up the phone, Kevin spoke to it, thinking he was recording his photo (live with sound) for Hottie. I told him no differently. Got no clue how to do that!
Taking one's leave of Kevin is time-consuming, but back in the kitchen there were several pressing duties. Because it's a weekday, the noon meal was only a matter of handing out sack lunches, making coffee and filling the ice bin. There were plenty of lunches in the refrigerator, so I set to work on the 25 sacks of PBJs. Naturally, the PBJ concoction made only 25 sandwiches, and I needed 50. Arthritis does not enjoy opening jars and mixing those ingredients.
Next I made 12 breakfast sacks, each with a bagel, two breakfast bars, a drink, a napkin and a plastic knife. The knife was for spreading jelly on the bagel, but we're out of jelly. I didn't feel like retrieving the knives, so I left them there to give folks something to think about.
The lunch crowd numbered about eight. Fancy Lady and autistic boy's mom were the only gals there. Oh, and Hottie called after receiving Kevin's picture. He gives me background on the residents to which I am not normally privy. Fancy is said to have a gracious monthly retirement income and that "the Lord" sent her to live at the shelter. It is easy to see how that could be her thinking, as she never eats a meal without lingering at table with other residents—one at the time. Neither Hottie nor I understands why a healthy, well-fixed person would choose to live in a shelter or why the shelter keeps her. Having once had access to the records, Hottie swears Fancy is 70 years old! I suppose he could be right, but I just said, "Wow! I hope I look like that when I'm 70!"
"Oh, Miss Joy," he said, "you have 20 years to go."
Let the boy dream.
SO... Buddy was expected to come in and make dinner, but he hadn't shown when I left at 1:15. Lanyard Guy was asked to come in, but declined. Two gatekeeper ladies were expected at any moment, when I left, and I had perused the walk-in refrigerator only to suggest that they could serve omelets, fruit, and rolls for dinner... unless they want to dig out some deep-fry foods from the freezer. I'm not sure they know how to work the fryer. Anyway, I left the place clean and took out more empty boxes for the recycle. Kevin wanted to help me with those, so we can be fairly sure that he will recycle them as bedding.
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