The other day, I was out a-shoveling. (Just like a-wassailing. But way less fun.) And my adorable 86-year-old across-the-street neighbor, Nephi, came over to help me. The man is a machine. A shoveling machine. He really is so cute. Like a third grandfather to me. I love him.
We can talk quite frankly about anything. While we shoveled, we talked about how his heart has stopped hurting when he shovels, but he pointed out that this could be one of those false recovery things that precedes death. I nodded. We talked about his wife's last moments, how she wanted to sit up and look at the Christmas lights hanging on my house (when someone else was living here) and how much that meant to her. She was dead 15 minutes later. We talked about how December is a really hard time for him. And we talked about how he was sick for three entire weeks in December but refused to go to the doctor for it. He's going to "quit" his doctor, because his doctor keeps giving him medicine that makes him sick. He talked about how he doesn't want a funeral when he dies (he doesn't like to be the center of attention ever), and how that makes his kids sad. I gently told him that sometimes, funerals are for the living left behind. To help them. He nodded.
I love that I have such a good friendship with him. He really has enriched my life. I'll be sad when he passes. We watch out for each other.
He told me that he was going through some of "the wife's" stuff - that it has taken him several years to feel ready to go through her stuff. Which made me so sad for him. And he said he found a twin bed fitted sheet, still new in the package. He asked if I wanted it.
Now, I know a lot of things about Nephi. One thing I know is that he's sensitive. Even more so than I am. So I heartily accepted, though in my heart, I'm like, "But a bottom sheet that doesn't match a top sheet? I don't know if I can handle the mismatching!!" He also asked if we wanted some juice. He has, like, hundreds of bottles of juice in his food storage. I'd say 200 of each kind of juice. It's awesome. So I was like, "Sure!"
So he brings the sheet and the juice over. Here's the sheet:
That means that this sheet is reeeeeally old. And, honestly, quite ugly. But I accepted it with gratitude. One of the bottom sheets I've been using on the kids' beds (which I used as a child) is starting to tear at the corners, so this will be the perfect replacement.
Micah is in love with it. He keeps asking if I'm done washing it.
No, I'm not. Because I'm constantly behind on laundry. It's my schtick. They should call me the Late Laundress.
So I brought the sheet inside and the juice, and I checked the expiration date on it. I have been burned by Nephi's juice before. Sure enough, both bottles had expired in 2010. So I went ahead and took them straight out to the dumpster. No need for him to know. He gave from his heart and I want him to feel happy about that.
I mean, mayyyybe the juice would have been okay? But I'm extremely paranoid about food poisoning. Once you've had it, you will be forever paranoid, too. Trust me on that.