Early yesterday morning, I received a phone call from the manager of the Board & Care where my dad is a resident.

When I heard those first few words, I braced myself: “Suzanne, we have a problem with your father.”

Oh no. I really, really don’t enjoy starting a day with those phone calls.

Apparently, my dad is starting to develop sticky fingers.

As in, taking another resident’s oxygen tank.

Now, the other resident wasn’t using the oxygen tank. It was in the hall closet, just in case.

Knowing Dad, and the way his mind works…tucking extra napkins at a restaurant in all of his pockets, hoards food in his room, adds to his used paper cup collection…he probably figured “you just never know when you might mind an extra oxygen tank.”

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