I just got out of the shower, got dressed, sopping wet hair and barefoot....decided before I dried my hair, I'd get the mail and newspaper and bring the recycling bin up. It's a beautiful day afterall.
I started to head up the driveway with the recycling bin and I hear RumSon calling for Yardman. My mantra started, "please don't see me...please don't see me..."
"Hey Stapht" (understand that is how my name sounds when uttered in the Florida Cracker dialect).
So I turn around and much to my delight, I am regaled with details of the current mental health care that Crazy Woman is under. As I suspected a few weeks ago, she was going off her meds. Seems in the last week or so she totally stopped them again.
Now she is one step away from permanent institutionalization. She is violent when unmedicated and they have voluntarily locked her up as many times as they can. Well evidently, noteworthy for those of you who do have a mental case nearby, there is a new program (12 years old) that they come to your house and shoot up the crazy, as an alternative to Baker Acting.
Just for a minute imagine how much fun that job is...300 pound woman, schizophrenic and off her meds, prone to violence and you get to show up and give her an antipsychotic shot. Sign me up for that one.
For the record, I just said hello. And Goodbye.