Another Night With the Zombies

 Around here, there are what some call Wanderers; I simply call them Zombies.  After I watched one elderly woman. Bump into my side table over and over again. After dumping my container of art pens and pencils on the floor, but acted like nothing happened. Just bump, bump, bump against the table while seemingly sound asleep.

Not only one visitor came into our room that night.  There were two more. One is in a wheelchair and another a walker.  The wheelchair lady was rolling around, eating toothpaste. The walker seems intrigued by a picture of my grandchildren.  Such is life here in the nursing home, late at night. I would be sitting in the dark, but I keep the television on to drown out the screams from women having nightmares and men dreaming about their past childhood adventures.  But the late-night talk shows drown them out.  Sadly, I do expect that the only thing that calms me at night is.  It could also be the exact cause of all the zombie guests.

Another reason for me to continue seeking housing outside of this nursing home is that at 60, I am not old enough to retire to the funny farm.

I am still running my GOFUNDME to build a small one-bedroom home. While others may have an appreciation for zombies, I do not.

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