BLAH

Well! I would just like to say that the book I am writing right now called: "Things That Don't Happen Every Day" is

going well. So well in fact, that I'm afraid I'll definitely have to revise when I am all done. And THEN I'll

send it to whoever wants it. Please comment whenever you think I should post certain chapters of my story on

here, my blog.

Actually, you know what? That gives me a grand idea. In this blog right now, I will give you an excerpt FROM

the book. Yeah! :) And it will be the best scene I think will receive the most replies, too. :) So anyways, please

follow the little star thingies down below, and after that will be the scene. I hope you enjoy it and comment soon!

Thanks again!

Ta! God bless~ ;)

JMG~

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Chapter One

It was a windy day, and....I don't know. I guess I just wanted to say that. That seems like a real good beginning to the story, don't

you think? I think so. Well, I guess I actually do, because it's me. The one who's actually thinking of the past, while sitting in this

little recliner with my name on it. I am seventy years old, and in the back of this stupid, puke brown chair, my name is on it. As if, for goodness

sakes, I am actually in kindergarten instead!

It's my kids' fault. They put me in this jailhouse with the formal name of "nursing home". There is not even no nursing thing about it.

Unless of course, you think about the mean nurses with halloween faces who come over to you and ask how you are. Oh, I'm just fine. I don't say

much, and when I do, I'm practically criticized for saying something!

Okay, you want to have it? Fine. Here is the schedule for every...single...day!

I wake up at six a.m., unless my nurse friend, not really a friend, named Bettie comes over and wakes me up. It's such a stupid schedule.

What if I want to sleep in, huh? Did they ever think of that? No! They get paid for doing nothing! Zip, zero, zacko!

First, there's breakfast. And I swear to my grave that meal is bigger than all of them put together. When you do not eat all your eggs,

bacon, etc., which all smells pretty bad by the way, I swear they throw the food out like there's not ten billion children out there starving

half to death. After breakfast, it's what the people call study time. And oh, no, it's not back-to-college time, it's people who come from town

and give little annoying skits, or else play the piano for so long you can practically feel, much less see, the drool coming from the snoring people

behind me! 

This lasts until noon, strictly, where we have yet a fab meal of whatever they killed the night before. The dessert is even bad, if you can call

jello dessert anymore, or sometimes pudding. The stuff is so jiggly, that I silently and constantly wish people luck with whoever they have to feed.

I'm not being mean or anything, I'm just warning you about nursing homes so you can hope and pray that you never have to go there

before you die!

After lunch, it's nap time. That's a swell time. They escort you via a wheelchair back to your room where you listen to your older

roommate gurgling in their sleep until you find the nightmares inside your own. And THEN, it's snack time. Yes, instead of little cookies and milk

you had when you were little, you have soggy grapes and orange slices that hardly stay whole. Oh, yum! Very seldom do they give you

apple slices.

After that, it's recliner-sitting staring-into-space time where you have a lot to think about but mostly stare into space.

Then at six sharp, it's a wonderful case of the dinner again, and then finally at eight o'clock, it's back to that cot of a bed where

they start the whole day the same way at the exact same times the next day.

Okay, fine. FINE! You want to hear the WHOLE story? I'll tell you....

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