Assisted Living

Vicki (love her to death) and I were out today running some errands.  We stopped by Midsouth Transplant Foundation to get some blood work done, and then went across the street to The Butcher Shop for a hamburger. I won’t eat lunch there any day but Friday, because they only serve lunch on Friday. They take the trimmings from the steaks they serve all week, grind them up into the most wonderful hamburgers. My youngest daughter also works there. We gave her a hug.

This is all fine and good, Steve, but what does it have to do with assisted living?

Okay. We have to go get an ink jet cartridge refilled and then pick up Doodle (our dog) from the groomer. We’ve not gotten the call yet that she is ready, so we (I) decide to stop in at The Village of Germantown, a retirement home. Since Vicki and I have some time to kill, we pull into the property. Both of my brother’s daughters work there. Megan is in the sales department. She is my 7^th favorite niece. Truth be told, she is tied for 1^st place with 6 other nieces. I love her because she doesn’t put up with my shit stuff. Gives it right back to me.  I like that in a niece.

The Village of Germantown is a very nice facility. I want to play a joke on Megan, having Vicki go in and tell the receptionist that she is looking for a place to put her husband (me). The receptionist calls back to the sales department and tells them that “Vicki” is there to see somebody about getting me a new place to live. Megan takes the call. We later learn that Megan is freaking out because she does not remember talking to anyone named Vicki. She’s looking through notes on her desk, searching files on her computer, racking her brain trying to recall anyone she spoke to named Vicki. Then she realizes our last name is the same as hers. Collins. Light bulb. Prank pulled.

Megan comes out to see me in the car, gives me a big hug and relates the story. We laugh. She then explains to me that The Village will not accept me into the facility as I would need assisted living, and the only way to get there is to be first accepted into their Continuing Care Retirement Community for INDEPENDENT LIVING. Well, then, the joke’s on me. I don’t qualify. AND I KNOW PEOPLE THERE!

But the really funny part of the story is this: as we’re driving around, Vicki points out the amenities such as the walking paths and the flower garden. What I liked most about this place is that there is reserved parking. A LOT of reserved parking. A whole parking lot of reserved parking. We couldn’t find a place to park since the whole parking lot was reserved parking. One lady even had her Scooter electric wheelchair parked in her reserved parking. And they’re licensed and insured. That’s a good thing.

If you’re interested in a Continuing Care Retirement Community, call Megan. But don’t be needing assisted living. She can’t help you there. She’s also single, in her late 20’s, very attractive and has a great personality. And she sews her own clothes. But she doesn’t put up with stuff!