Where the freak are the bloody Q-tips?
How should I know? My ears are clean.
Isn’t this the Sunday Jesus suggests taking up our crosses?
Yes, but he was wrong. He meant to say hiking boots.
Yeah, for the trip back to Gethsemane.
It’s so quiet around here.
Maybe because we’re the only ones making noise.
What’s this?
What?
This little white L-shaped thingie.
It belongs on the bed frame—somewhere I think.
Can’t find my sweatshirt.
I saw it somewhere.
So did I.
I think we should put the good silver in here.
We don’t have good silver.
Your mother did.
Aw, aren’t we cute in this pic?
That was our wedding day.
Oh God!
There’s blood in the sink!
Oh yeah, I just knicked my finger.
Doing what?
Something with a knife.
Well, you used half a box of Kleenex on it.
Just bring me the paper towels, bandaids, and be quiet.
Is it bad? Like ER bad?
‘Tsokay, I remember where the hospital is.
I found us a chiropractor.
One that takes our insurance I hope.
I forgot to ask, but they would’ve asked me first, right?
Call them again.
Can’t, I already spent several hundred hours on hold. Besides, they might be hurt. At least the new PCP I found takes Medicare.
Oh, and I bet the hair stylist does too!
Hey, our old eye doctor is still here.
Do the math. It would have to be his son!
Hey, the front door clears our braided rug.
Brilliant! Where’s the underpinning?
I might have told the movers to just chuck it.
What the ………?
It wont’ slide it you don’t step on it—much.
Hey, they have Bingo here! AND a movie on Friday nights.
(No answer)
Did you hear me? Movies. Maybe popcorn.
(No answer)
Hey, I’m talking to you.
Please, please, please stop talking.
I just had a vision
BVM?
No, the freakin’ Q-tips.
To be serious, we have just moved into our new home in a retirement community called McLean Village in Simsbury, Connecticut. For us it’s familiar territory, and we’re happy to be living near many though not all of our children and theirs. It is beautiful and tree-full. We are not settled yet, but alive enough to laugh and still believe in God—and Q-tips.
