Here I am EARLY in the morning, just up from tossing and turning. Maybe I can't sleep now, because I slept two hours yesterday afternoon.
Also it is a good time to remind myself how lucky I am to be living in this old folks home. I, and 93 other old folks, are safe and secure, in a comfortable, clean, beautiful apartment house next to a bank, shopping mall, a coffee house, a market, and inexpensive restaurants gal ore. And we don't even need the restaurants because some fixes us three meals a day.
There are folks who come at the tug of a cord to help us if we fall, or can't reach something, or forget the day of the week. The halls are flat and easy to navigate in a wheel chair. And excuse me for being so scatological, but the toilet is chair height, and flushes with the force of a hurricane. (Well, that is important these days.)
Oooh, I get so mad at the management sometimes, for the things they ought to do, for the meals that do not appeal, but then they turn around and arrange for me to call the city bus, or make an appointment for me here or there.
No need to feel lonesome. Open your door and someone will wander in. Or go to the parlor, there is someone there.
In eight years here, there has been no crime except a room burgled while the resident was away. One time. Compare that with your neighborhood for past eight years.
This is just a reminder to myself. You are feeling cranky cause you have old man's complaints and aches, but you are LUCKY, Sir, to be where you are.