“Fit as a fiddle”

Wednesday, August 19th, 2015

When I lived in Montana, I worked in a hotel collecting dirty linen from the room attendants. I would push the cart around and collect the linen and then we got a new co worker. She worked in the kitchen and then she joined us in the housekeeping. Her name was Ellen. She was 75 and she hadn’t entered her second childhood and had no signs of aging except she had wrinkles like an elderly. She could still drive, see, hear fine, her memory was good and her brain, she could still walk well, she had no incontinence. I said she was fit as a fiddle and everyone would laugh and her. I told my mom at her house we had an old woman working with us and she took my old job and now I work in the laundry room folding linen, then I said Ellen was fit as a fiddle and my mom said that might be hurtful. I asked her why and she really couldn’t give me an answer. What is so bad about being fit as a fiddle when you’re old? I thought this would be a compliment. I said the same about my cat but the only thing that wasn’t well was her brain which would explain why she couldn’t use her litter box and why she would act strange sometimes, especially in new environments. But I didn’t know that then, I just thought she had gone lazy and quit caring so I kept her outside often so she wouldn’t pee in the house or poop.


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