Assisted Living

It's gotten to be too much. Today I'll look for an Assisted Living facility.

For me. Not for mom. She's 98 and feisty as the devil.

It'll be wonderful. Someone else will do the cooking. I'll eat in the big dining room at an assigned table. I'll start with the ice cream and ignore the vegetables. Even if one of my dining companions drools, it's all good.

I'll go to crafts class. I'll make a wreath of green construction paper, old cut-up Christmas cards, and red ribbon. I'll taste the glue if I want to.

I'll commandeer the remote in the Big Room and watch Project Runway and Real Housewives of Orange County.

A choir from some church will come to sing carols. They'll bring cookies. Since I can see better and am fleeter of foot than most of my buddies, I'll reach the table first and grab four homemade sugar cookies with green icing and red sugar. If a staff person tries to distract me with a cup of punch, I'll take it, but when she's not looking, I'll be back for more.

I'll go to bed at 9 PM and fall to sleep immediately, despite my roommate's snoring.

Heavenly peace.