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With the changing of the guard, I wanted to update you on the manipulatives
we will be using in this future room.
 How will you get you there, you ask.
The promise of improvement, of finally making it come true; all that you
have denied yourself that success will be yours and no one will be able to
take it away from you.
Of course, everything will be simulated, not quite what you imagined, an
artificiality, that's almost annoying except you've lost the sensitivity to
tell the difference.
How real is that?
Each day will be a special day, filled with flowers, ranging from
forget-me-nots, lilies and roses surrounded by canters of potpourri.
How we love the clutter of nostalgia, our rolling hoops, then hula hoops,
then hoop earrings getting a full workout, with only a few bloody teeth and
pinched ear lobes to soothe afterwards.
The men are particularly keen on switching beds, diving into a playhouse of
self-stimulation, political discussion, and religious hymns.
All the elevators have Out of Order signs on them, because the secret code
was hacked by Mr. Weatherby. The new code is 1010.
Now that the warmer weather is here, all I can say is bring on the archaic
lawn bowlers.
Thank-you, Tracy Bellwoods, R.N.
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