It turns out that Tornado (C.) isn't the only one with an obsession with "ucky" things. Our beloved custodian at church, M., who is coming up on her 75th birthday, comes by everyday she's in, to empty the trash. She examines the contents of our trash cans with the attention given by a hospital nurse checking the urine output in a foley bag hanging from the patient's bed. "You did good today," comments M. on the amount of trash she has to empty. Or, "you've been busy." Or, "today is a slow trash day." Always a comment, always an interest in what is in the can (or not). Today, she found a disposed copy of a prayer card I was working on for H & S, and came back in to ask me if that was my daughter. "She looks just like you!" Yep, we've heard that a few times.
M., living alone, also talks to herself, carrying on regular and detailed conversations. In the beginning, it always threw me for a loop to walk into a room and wonder if she was talking to me. Now I may or may not comment on whatever she is talking about at the moment, depending on whatever interesting I may or may not have to say.
M. is really quite amazing, moving tables and chairs, mopping the entire gym, and more, at her age. To say she does so without complaint would be a lie, but we'll miss her when she's gone. I doubt anyone else will take her level of interest in what is found (or not found) in our uckies.
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