One person, my elder daughter has her heart set and her eye fixed on a nursing home, but she will soon have to admit that the place we would not have to pay for because my old-age pension would cover all expenses, where I am currently placed, is in fact beyond our means, pension included.
Rendering the situation with extreme over-dramatization, the government pension may force me into a rat-hole.
Not unlike real life, the requirements for my living accomodations are contradictory, and seem to necessitate the use of a word I’ve grown to dislike due to its use by and association with the woman known in my companion blogs as LL. It has meant, among other things, “men it will be far more fun to visit with than you!” The word in question is ‘priorities’. It is they who took all the blame for LL’s having no time to visit. So I am ill-disposed toward ‘priorities’, and if I can come up with a better-tailored word that will be the word I use. Perhaps simply ‘firsts’.
Of those, there are three; painting, writing, and sitting with friends. The seconds may be of inestimable value; light, trees and foliage generally, necessary shops conveniently close-by; of such things do seconds consist. But firsts are firsts. Compromise on them and you are no longer trustworthy. A rat-hole in which I can paint, write, and sit with friends would not necessarily make for luxe living, but it would be sufficient.
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