It makes me wonder even more if they all had the same father. Four kids, and all four look different and have different personalities.
Kind of like Princess Di’s two boys. One looks like Prince Charles, and the other looks like Princess Di’s red-headed bodyguard.
My granddaughter is happy going to school. She loves playing and making friends. Poor thing, but she gets up at 6am to leave the house by 7 to get to school at 8. The good thing is she’s an early riser. Radford Academy is in the central part of our city, but the morning traffic can be a pain. Leave at 7am and you’re fine. Leave at seven-oh-five, and your fighting with everybody else who’s trying to get to work. It reminds me of one time when I was in California. We were at a softball game somewhere south of where you lived. The games were over. Your wife packed up your daughters and drove off. You and I tossed their softball gear into the back of my truck and we left a minute or two later. They had an uneventful drive back home. We got stuck in a traffic jam where all the freeways merge into one to go north.
What a difference a few seconds makes.
What a headache your water leak is turning out to be, and I’m not talking about the one between your legs. THAT headache will come later.
If you lived in a retirement community like you planned, all you’d have to do is call the front office and they’d send someone over to fix it PDQ.
Good thing you’re retired. You’ve got the free time to fuss with these people. I bet you haven’t heard the word ‘no’ so much since you were in high school trying to get laid. But what about the poor insurance purchasers who work? Like me, for instance. I’m on the road all day. Where would I find the time to spend hours on the phone, whether on hold or arguing with the person who gets paid to cheat you out of a decent settlement?
Maybe an apartment is the way to go. If the rent gets too high, then I’ll just let the government house me. Heck, I could even rob a bank and live out my life in a low-security penitentiary. Free room and board. Three meals a day. Free medical. Sounds like a great way to spend my retirement.
It reminds me of a joke:
An old man went to prison. He was afraid because of everything he had seen and heard on TV and in the movies.
"Don't worry," said another prisoner. "You like Italian food?"
"Sure," the old man said.
"That's great. On Mondays we have Italian Food Day, and the cafeteria serves spaghetti and meatballs, lasagna, fettuccine alfredo, you name it. You're gonna love it." He pauses, and then says, "You like movies?"
"You bet I do," the old man said, this time a little more excitedly.
"Well, on Tuesdays we have Movie Day, and in the theater they show the latest Hollywood movies. Three or four of them at a time. You're gonna love it." He pauses again, and then says, "By the way, are you a homosexual?"
"No," the old man says, offended. "I'm not."
"I guess you're not gonna like Wednesdays," his new friend tells him.
By the way, how are old people treated in prison? When you’re an old man, do you still get beaten and sodomized? Maybe anal rape is one way to solve elderly constipation. That’s the great thing about Alzheimer’s. After being anally raped, beaten, and sodomized, you immediately forget the trauma.
Maybe God has a plan, after all.
Raising My Father
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