continuing my verbal diarreaha

Yesterday I went to a lady's house to do the paperwork for her mom. I don't really like to go to houses as it freaks me out a little but sometimes it's necessary. Mom was 91, daughter is late 60s and wheelchair bound. Her front door was open, so I knocked and stepped in. She sat there in her wheelchair from across the room and she didn't say anything at first. I called her by name, and she just said, "holy smokes!" I smiled a little and said excuse me. She repeated herself, "Hoooollllly smokes!". I didn't know what to do and was thinking that she knew I was a woman cuz we talked on the phone and female funeral directors aren't all that odd anyway. Ha!! That's not what she meant. Apparently she thought I'm "smoking hot!" It made me laugh so hard. She invited me to come in and sit. Well there was only one tiny spot cleared on a love seat with STUFF stacked EVERYWHERE, exactly why I don't like to go to the homes of strangers. She said, "I'm not a lesban, but my daughter is and she would fall in love with you." I was cracking up. She pulls her glasses to the tip of her nose and then looks me up and down and stops at my boobs. I fall a little short in this area, but apparently it was sufficient. It was hilarious. Not that I think late 60s is old, but it's not spring chicken either and I've certainly never been checked out like that by a senior citizen. Some years back I discovered that once behind the wheel of a minivan, I became completely invisible to men. (true story but I'll have to save it for another day). Now apparently I'm invisible to all BUT old women in wheelchairs who have rooms full of Winnie the Pooh and other miscellaneous crap in piles over every possible horizontal surface in their homes. Smoking hot. yee-haw. That made my day. It was amazingly weird. Oh! I almost forgot. I asked for her grandparents' names for the death certificate. She couldn't remember but told me all that information is inside a suitcase under the sink in the front bathroom. I kid you not. I asked if she wanted me to get it for her. She said yes. So I squeezed past her, then past a walker in the hallway, and stepped into an absolutely spotless bathroom. What??? How could it be so clean. I kneel in front of the sink and open the door and sure enough there's an old-fashioned, hard-sided, blue suitcase under there. I take it out and bring it back to the living room and help her open it and I'm stunned to see all of her mother's important documents in there. Her baptismal certificate, high school graduation papers, all kinds of stuff. Who keeps that in a blue suitcase under the bathroom sink? Incredible.
The woman was actually wonderful. A great story teller. "Are you sitting down for this one, Noelle, oh yeah, you are, it's a good one..." I completely enjoyed my time with her and I'm even looking forward to seeing her again to take her mother's urn home, but I was also very glad to get into my white minivan with company logo on the door (not so invisible), pour on the hand sanitizer and be on my way. Smoking hot? maybe; shallow? undoubtably.