Today brought some welcome news. The apartment building pest left on Friday.
The woman suffered from dementia plus drinking alcohol. Clueless, she would wander the halls ringing random doorbells. Last Monday she managed to start a fire in her apartment. Yesterday she was gone.
This woman bothered me in more ways than ringing my doorbell. My late ex-wife was named, “Karen”. The woman, too, was “Karen”, and could have been my ex-wife’s plain Jane sister. Worse, I felt the same kind of attraction to her that I did my ex! How the hell does that happen?
I wrote a post when my ex died.
An earlier post explained my favorite country song.d.html
This evening when I have my bedtime libation, think I will queue it up on YouTube and have a listen.
I do hope she is going to a care center where she will be safe. Here she wasn’t.
Let's hope she's ok. And what a great song!
I clicked through... and I'll spare you my version. Kyrie.
I too hope she is ok even though I couldn't stand being around her plus her setting my dog off ringing our doorbell frequently.
She needs more advanced care than she was getting there. Prayers sent that she's getting it now.
None of us residents signed on as caregivers. Many here need help to stay independent. I'm grateful my mind/body is holding up as well as it does.
Karen was basically "dumped" here and mostly abandoned by her two sons. Her problems started long before the dementia. She was, and is, a classical "Karen". Not to sugar coat it, she is a bitch.
There's just something about that name "Karen"...
Seems to have a negative connotation.
I've wondered about that. I dated two "Karens" prior to marrying one. A popular name for girls born in the 40's and 50's. Other than their names, all three were intelligent and had "spunk"; qualities I like in women.
Heh. "All my ex's live in Texas" is the song I most associate with my ex-wife because last I knew, well over 30-years now, that's where she was. Only lost a year on mine, though, which was plenty long enough at the time.
A shame about both Karen's. Deja Karen sounds a lot like my Aunt, my Mother's sister. She had suffered a heat stroke and was never the same afterwards. As she got older, she got worse. Her kids couldn't begin to handle her, so she ended up institutionalized. It just is, what it is.
We passed her apartment tonight and you can still smell the smoke. The maintenance man is planning a complete repaint, and perhaps new carpeting. He is hoping to not replace the microwave oven she set on fire and the cabinets above it. (Cooked ramen without any water).
I know the song!
Post a Comment