Amber's Abode

Six more months...*sob*

I just passed five months here the day before yesterday.  Well yesterday, I found out I have at least six more.  There was a snafu or something, and I did not get written down on the waiting list at all the first time for the place I want to go to live more permanently.  They take care of that on the national level, not locally, a fact which was not mentioned to us before.  So here I am.

I suppose I could move temporarily into an adult foster home, but that's not an option which feels safe to me at all.  At least here, I can come and go at free will and I know the people and routine.  Still, it's very depressing.  I thought I was almost through this.

And apparently, they don't like you to have a sense of humor.  I made a list of you know you live in a nursing home one-liner jokes which everyone here thought was funny.  But someone gave a copy to the chaplain, and he was not amused.  So, he faxed a copy to the regional office, and they were also not amused, even though they probably laughed until it hurt before remembering they had to protect an image.  So I was made to destroy all hard copies.  In the book were jokes made by other people as well.  But just out of rebellion, here are mine originally:

You know you live in a nursing home when

You discover that the word MOM no longer means the person who gave birth to you.

You don't need an alarm clock because your roommate and/or neighbor is a screamer.

You are regularly asked in a semi public place to describe the size of your bowel movements.

The highlight of your week is watching Lawrence Welk...  on the big-screen television.

A sizable percentage of your neighbors believe that Perry Mason and/or MASH are current shows.

You get excited about winning a quarter at bingo.

Fights break out in the dining room because you accidentally sit in someone's spot.

The food reminds you of what they served at your elementary school.

The activities remind you of things you did in elementary school.

You have to find a million polite ways to tell someone with memory loss that they can't have coffee.

Neighbors randomly approach you asking you where their car or house is.

Anyone that stays up after 8 p.m.  is labeled a party animal.

You feel fortunate to get two showers a week.

Candy, pop, and cigarettes are legal tender currency.

Someone wears your shirt for two weeks, swearing that it's theirs because some lady in laundry gave it to them. 

You learn to tell the days apart by what's on the menu.

The term "Shit List" has an entirely different meaning. 

(Added) Corporate has no sense of humor and the man of the cloth is a snitch.

Six more months?!  How am I ever going to survive?

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