Now on my 3rd week in the mobile home park, I’m observing Maslow’s hierarchy of basic needs: chicken wings, cheap beer, and shelter. I gave up employment, morality and self-actualization in favor of a good tan. When I take a shower it sets off the fire alarm. I have a variety of outfits (and tutu) in the car just in case I come across a cultural event. When it rains I poke the ceiling tiles to make sure they are intact. I even had a make-out session on the futon (yes, with a human). My cousin is showing up soon with a blow up mattress to crash on the floor. Best of all, I now qualify for Medicaid – I’m a welfare queen, sucking away your tax dollars. It turns out that eligibility is completely based on current income; assets and savings don’t matter.
I encouraged Dad to play bingo today so that he could get free ice cream. Much to my surprise he won the game – twice. I’ve played karaoke bingo for years and never won. Dad was a bingo virgin. Therefore I took his prizes; it seemed fair considering my sacrifices to make his life comfortable. Bingo here is not quite the same experience as what I’m used to in Seattle - when “O-69” was called, the geriatric crowd didn’t moan. I asked the 12-year old volunteer who was serving Sid about how he liked community service in lieu of jail time, and what crime did he commit? The kid laughed – nervously.
Back to the beach.
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