Sedating racoons

It reminded me of a saying I had concocted during the time I had my hips replaced, when I was fed up with similar interactions as I hobbled along on crutches or canes at various points: “Pity is the hypocritical cousin of contempt.” When we got to his apartment, my Former Friend boiled some pasta and opened a jar of sauce to mix with it.He opened a bottle of red wine, offering me a glass, the first alcohol I had consumed in more than six months. I was more than happy to be on my own after having no privacy in hospital.After the “incident” about my complaining about the out-of-control lady with Alzheimer’s and my concerns for Maude’s safety, Maude had been moved to the floor above, so I went to say good-bye to her as well.

The previous year, on a visit to his place, I found it to be in a state of extreme clutter.After we parked in the underground garage, we got into the elevator, me with the walker piled with white plastic bags containing my clothing and other items I had in the hospital. A woman got on at the ground floor and looked at the walker and then at me.I told her I had not and she murmured something pseudo-positive in reply.The other downtown people that I could think of did not have suitable places, they did not have enough space or there were a lot of stairs, as examples.Peter lived in the north end of the city and did not have a car, which would have meant getting up at in the morning and taking a very expensive cab ride downtown.

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