Hanging with the shorties is free. Wait. Are shorties little kids?

It is 11:21 at night, and just Francis and I are up. Francis is on the guest bed, sitting like a man with his legs out in front of him, all bent over his 21-pound stomach, having a bath. I am in my robe, having never gotten dressed today, drinking a Hi-C Grabbin' Grape juice box.

Perhaps you wonder why a childless couple in their 40s would have Hi-C juice boxes. I'll tell you why. They're good.

One of our rules for not spending this year was if we bought juice at the store, it had to be 100% juice. Upon reading this box, I see that we have completely broken this rule with a TEN PERCENT juice. Man.

And why does grape juice have pear juice in it?

Anyway, I wanted to tell you what I did today, so that I am more obligated to follow through.

As you know, I have been blue. (Did you enjoy my special effect, there? Wooo! George Lucas called. He wants his skills back.)

My Aunt Kathy is blue, as well. A year ago, she and her husband (aka my Uncle Bill, but not the guy from Family Affair) moved to Vermont. She is retired and doesn't know anyone there and basically we are in similar boats. Blue, blue boats. So we like to call each other and kvetch.

But she came up with a really good idea. She said she was going to call a nursing home in her town and ask if anyone there needed a visitor.

So today I got the hymnal-sized phone book for this little town (the yellow and the white pages are both in one book. It is small. Rhode Island could kick the crap out of it in a war. We're talking small.) (that is from Arthur, the funniest movie in the history of time) and looked up nursing homes.

Then I went on line and figured out the difference between nursing homes and assisted living facilities. Then I decided which place I could fairly easily walk to. Then I split the atom and read War and Peace and finally, I called Meadowview Terrace and talked to the fastest-talking director of activities you have ever talked to in your life. She was practically an auctioneer. Rhode Island could kick the crap out of her in a war. No, no.

Anyway, I am proud to tell you that (a) I understood most of what she said and (2) I told her I would pay a visit as soon as I could. She said a lot of people need visitors there, and that she would introduce me around until I had chemistry with someone. She said she could just assign me to a person, but instead she'd leave it up to God.

How much did I love the auctioneer activities director?

Anyway, of all the luck it looks like my old workplace FINALLY sent me work (they, um, forgot to actually attach the job), so if it is all due tomorrow or something, I won't be able to get to old Meadowview Terrace (which, by the way, has neither a view of a meadow or a terrace, I think).

But do not let me go until Friday without getting over there, you hear?