Sunday evening Mr. Big Food called his folks. You know how you can understand an entire conversation by only listening to one side? Not good. The Independent Living Facility in which Mr. Big Food’s Dad and Mr. Big Food’s Mom live had gone sort of lockdown last week. And those Independent Kids being who they are, realized they could go out the service entrance when no one was looking! Like sneaking out past midnight! So Management locked the back gate. And just for sh*ts & giggles, laid off half of the kitchen staff.
After the call, Mr. Big Food asked what I thought, and I said, “Sure. Absolutely!” And then he said, “They won’t take us up on it, but they should know it’s an option.”
Monday morning he emailed them. Just temporary. Apartment hasn’t been lived in since October. It’s more spacious. Fresh air.
Monday evening, Mr. Big Food’s Dad and Mom called. Thanks. Appreciate it. We’re thinking about it.
I must comment that we were not expecting them to even think about it. These are native Texans– have been for over 80 years each. Set in their ways. We’ve got it. And other such attitudes.
So I started a list.
Tuesday evening Mr. Big Food’s Dad and Mom called. “We’ll be there Thursday.” Things had gotten worse. The lockdown cracked down. Not even allowed on the grounds for a stroll. Not allowed on their own little patio. Food sucks.
Breaking out of The Incubator.
So I began executing the list.
Wednesday they got things in order. Thursday they left. A 14 hour drive in one day. In their 80s. They’re Texans. Got here before dark.
For my part, the only thing on the list we did not accomplish was using the truck to push the dead Saab to the front of the workshop so they would have a place inside to park their SUV.
I suspect they will not mind being quarantined in an apartment on Farther Along Farm. Food is pretty good.