When I first became aware of him, he would rattle his coffee cup on the saucer until someone brought him coffee. He rattled his spoon loudly while stirring his tea. He demands special treatment daily because he is diabetic, while others deal quietly with the food issues. I think his wife calmed him down some.

One of the men has a bicycle horn on his walker. Gorgio and others attack the horn’s bulb. Oh, God, how I hate that squawker.

And then I met him! He was born in Venice and fought against the German Army with the Underground. Captured, he was placed in a concentration camp. After the war, he studied for three years in the Christian University of Rome and nearly became a Methodist minister.

He found work as a sailor, and when the ship arrived in the United States, he jumped. Yes, he was an undocumented alien who eventually earned his citizenship and learned to speak English (almost). After working for fifteen years in an Army/Navy store, he retired and moved to the South.

He will always be loud and demanding, but underneath is a precious stone. I like him and his wife.

Reminds me of when I was in college and someone said that we were diamonds in the rough – and the faculty was a skilled bunch of chiselers.

Her daughter made her a list of common foods dangerous for diabetics. Thus, she is the resident expert on all things diabetic. She avoids those foods and lovingly consumes all those not on her list. No one can tell her about anything that is not from her list.

Mary is droning and boring but a new champion has arrived. Todd is probably bi-polar. He came in a week of so ago in a manic state and has not come down off his high. Unlike Mary, Todd is invasive. He regularly tours the dining room, focuses on one table, and begins a barrage of questions. “Do you know who played Mary Todd Lincoln in the Day of the Jackal?” His drivel is non-stop.

One lady tried to stop him by asking a question. This just diverted him down another stream of semi-consciousness. But Todd has been good for the exercise program. People almost run to get away. His disruptiveness has been ordered away from the bridge tables.

My only concern is about what will happen when he turns and hits rock bottom. As for me and my house, I am going to try and stay on his good list.

So, I checked my peephole.

It was Dawn, one of the other residents. She was shielding her eyes from the light. Seems she was having a cluster headache and had a new prescription for Imitrex.

I have the one thing that every woman in a retirement community wants in a man. I can drive at night. So we hopped in my car for a quick trip to CVS. She was back out in 6.5 minutes and I gave her a bottle of water. By the time we had driven the mile back home, she was feeling better.

Sometimes you have to stop watching “Heroes” and try to be one.

I wake up normally between 5:00 and 6:00. Only set the alarm for Sunday morning so I can watch Chris Matthews and worship with my two wildly divergent preachers. It has been a while since I slept through a Sunday morning service at church.

Mornings start with water pills and the blood check. I usually have to eat an orange to bring it up to 100. I would eat breakfast in the dining room, but don’t like to wait until mid-morning, so I fix my own. Today I made a burrito.

The morning is spent working on Resident's Association stuff and deleting all those 'can’t-live-without' e-mails. The funniest e-mails are those offering to refinance the mortgage on my rental apartment. This morning I compiled the monthly food suggestion box report.

Lunch is almost always in the dining room. I cherish those days when my daughter takes us somewhere for lunch, which ranges from Ethiopian to Mexican. My favorite is Thai. After lunch, I check into the office for the latest info needed for the residents.

When I worked in a cubicle, I had to sit for my siesta. Here, I can lie down with my CPAP sombrero over my head. All of us who worked in cubicles in my office periodically exploded out because they were getting compression crazy.

By Wednesday, I have to get out of here and just go somewhere in my car.

Tomorrow, I go to Skyline Hospital for a routine blood test. Doing my part to keep Skyline in business, I go once a week for one reason or another. I listen to novels as I drive. The current humor is You Suck, a novel about teen-age ingénue vampires – but it could be about hospital labs.

Those who do not have cars take our bus to major points of attraction, such as The Dollar Tree. The bus runs three or more days a week.

What got me on this line of thinking was wondering about those who cannot get out at all. What do they do about their personal stir-crazy?