What an odd day
The man who calls himself my “maid” is 81. He is in spectacular shape. He does things like replacing light bulbs and so on.
I’ve been well aware for sometime that his hearing is bad and his eyes are getting worse.
Today he came and complained about how dark it is in my apartment, adding it’s too dark in the apartment of another woman he helps, and too dark in his own apartment.
I was sitting on the bed, bare feet under a TV table. When he thought he saw shreds of paper under the table, with the lithe moves of an Olympic gymnast, he bent down to pick them up.
It was my toes he was trying to pick from the carpet. He even tried to scrape them up with a thumbnail. I hollered, “Tony! Those are my toes!”
By then it had effectively become a foot massage. The first time, he didn’t respond and kept trying to grab a toe individually. The second time I got through.
“Oh,” he said casually. “I thought it was paper.” And lithely stood up again.
So if you drove past here and heard an elderly woman yelling about her toes, worry not.
I’ve been well aware for sometime that his hearing is bad and his eyes are getting worse.
Today he came and complained about how dark it is in my apartment, adding it’s too dark in the apartment of another woman he helps, and too dark in his own apartment.
I was sitting on the bed, bare feet under a TV table. When he thought he saw shreds of paper under the table, with the lithe moves of an Olympic gymnast, he bent down to pick them up.
It was my toes he was trying to pick from the carpet. He even tried to scrape them up with a thumbnail. I hollered, “Tony! Those are my toes!”
By then it had effectively become a foot massage. The first time, he didn’t respond and kept trying to grab a toe individually. The second time I got through.
“Oh,” he said casually. “I thought it was paper.” And lithely stood up again.
So if you drove past here and heard an elderly woman yelling about her toes, worry not.
