In the senior center (a small tract house) where I have been rennovating, the 3 resident seniors have been joined by 2 senior children who have been sleeping in their daddy's bed for the past few weeks. 3 senior citizens in a one bed in a crowded house? I count it as a miricle that there has yet to be bloodshed. The fact that one of the senior citizens calls the oldest senior citizen, "Pop" notwithstanding. The three of them lounging width-wise across the bed makes the nickname, "The 3 Stooges" rather irresistable. . . Beehaving now. . .

The rumblings from that room are getting quite irritating, especially when the younger seniors are ganging up on the elder. Me? I just the volunteer labor. Leave me out of that comedy skit. I doesn't even want to watch the show. I am busy working to calm my anxieties of my own 37 year old cherub and his S.O. growing up to invade my bed when I am 70something. The prognosis is downright scary.

I am shopping for coping tools and/or stabilizing support to help me stay calm in the face of this senior fun. . . Volunteer wages do not heighten my willingness to be diplomatic, but. . . If I can't help them, I at least don't want to hurt them and I am certainly not going to help by going down the drain with them.