One 3 am phone call from the ER last night needing to give us a homeless woman. Which they had fed, washed and entertained for several hours without making much headway. So they gave her to us. We picked her up around 4:30, she hops in the truck, and right off asks if we have any coloring books in the car. I am not an early bird, so I answered very literally, No, I dont think so. - Then had to ponder this for a bit. Asked why she needed a coloring book. Said coloring helped her to relax. (Hey, if it works, it works, and its certainly cheaper than Xanex.) So when we got to the WarmUp House, I scrounged around and found our box of broken crayons and tried to keep her occupied enough not to wake everybody else up. No go. She wanted to announce each new drawing at the top of her lungs. Others started to stagger out of bed, frowning at her. We went ahead and started the cheese grits an hour early. After breakfast, she frowns, pouts, says, This is no fun any more, I am ready to go home now. - We all look at each other. Where is home, maam ? She fishes something out of her clothing, says Where the key opens the door. (Which actually makes sense to me.) How do we get there ? Here, I will show you. And we pile back in the truck, flashers flashing, her pointing and singing, down Fosters Ferry Road to the apts behind the main building, and presto, we are home, and it all begins to make sense. The key did indeed open the door. We waved goodbye and drove away fast. Bizarre. - On the plus side, we now have nice refrigerator art.
Posted on: Sat, 17 Jan 2015 05:52:01 +0000
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