Elderville revisited

Oh my god, these old people! These two old geezers are more difficult to organize than 30 ADHD kindergartners on Redbull. First they lose their pencil, then they lose the paper they were working on, then they forget what it was they were doing in the first place. That's if they don't get into a fight along the way. And when these two oldies start to fight, they take out the nukes! The one with the damaged brain is a shrewd tease, and the one with the weak heart bellows and stomps around in a fury. There's a stroke and a heart attack hanging on every salvo.

As the end of my stay in Elderville draws near, I taste the familiar anxiety. Oh, please, I beg the god I don't believe in, please don't let anything happen to prolong my visit. Just keep them healthy until I'm in the air. I'll do anything. Just don't make me live their life a moment longer. It's a nightmare: the unbalanced checkbook about to topple from a Jenga of errors, the three-week-old leftovers, the 50-year-old resentments, the things that are remembered, the things that are forgotten. Oh, the irritation! Oh, the pain! They think they are alive, but they are in hell.