It’s Karaoke night here, at the home. The activity takes place in the first floor activity room, a few feet outside my door. For an hour, every resident who can’t sing, will. Again, as I have each time I hear the noise, I will contemplate on the philosophical question, “Why do people who can’t sing, insist on doing so. I wasn’t fond of Michael Jackson; I am less fond of off-key, off the rhythm, imitators.
Have I said this here, before? One of the great annoyances of being with older people is having to listen to the same old stories.