Moving into assisted accommodation is probably something we will all need to think about at some point in our lives. The gorgeous Angus made a slip and said that he was booking me into one such place. My face fell apart like a cheap pair of plastic shoes and he only took a millisecond to realise his error and correct himself, but it was at that point I understood that I am a very lucky girl cos I have Nurse Stevie at home to prepare food and cook and move hospital wee chairs and hand me the soap in the sitting down shower. He does all this not cos it's his calling but cos I suppose he reckons I am worth it and he began with the utter certainty that it will not be for long.
If I was all Home Alone, I am not sure how I would cope, cos there are certain things that are I definitely need help with.
I am not good at asking for help!
I do not like needing help.
I don't like waiting for help.
I would be pretty shithouse in an old folks' home, except that I'd far more happily boss strangers around than be always on at Steve to do my bidding.
So I am wondering what mental makeup would be a 'best fit' for an oldies home and their oldies.
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