I will have to wait until Monday to try out my new chair because the PT person wasn't here today. I hope she hasn't caught the flu. Jeff caught it from me, and some of the aides have it, not to mention the other residents who came down with it when I did. Pretty darned contagious, it seems.
I was searching for some nice, soothing music to type by, and chose an app that has all kinds of music from all over the world. I searched for "meditation." I got a list of stations and chose one. Ahhh. Soothing music greeted me.
Then, for no apparent reason, a loud, fuzzed out guitar began to play heavy metal, or thrash metal. Then the drummer joined in. It sounded like he was rolling around metal garbage cans filled with ricocheting bowling balls while simultaneously pounding the cans with a ball peen hammer. My automatic reaction was to scream in anguish while randomly slapping the screen of my iPad, trying desperately to turn it off. What the hell? Is this some new kind of meditation I haven't heard about, like Masochism Meditation? Yegods! Count me out.
Now I have no music playing. But I CAN hear the television my neighbor across the hall owns, on which she turned the volume up to "nuisance." Living in a nursing home is a lot like living in a college dorm, only without the weed, alcohol and wild parties. About the wildest it gets around here is when two people win at Bingo at the same time.
That's it for now. Stay safe and warm, y'all. Much love and peace to you.
(The people in this picture are, perhaps, a bit TOO wild. I wouldn't turn my back on the woman who is standing, clutching a dart in her hand.)
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