After a couple strokes my grandma moved into a nice (as nice as these things can be) assisted living facility. As we walked past the front desk the secretary was yelling at a resident, “Dang it Earl, PUT YOUR HEARING AIDS IN!” She turned to a nurse and said, “He is SO annoying.”
I made a mental note to keep that mean lady away from my grandma and headed on to her room.
“HEY! HOW TALL ARE YOU?” Earl had followed me.
“I’m six foot six.” “WHAT?” “I’m six foot six!”
“SIX?! YOU ARE WAY TALLER THAN SIX, I’M SIX FEET TALL!” “I am six FEET and six INCHES!” “NO, YOU ARE WAY TALLER THAN SIX FEET!”
Now holding up six fingers twice, and shouting louder than Earl, “I AM SIX FEET AND SIX INCHES TALL! SIX FOOT SIX!”
Earl shook his head, disgusted with my inability to gauge my own height and waved at me dismissively.
“You are way taller than that,” he mumbled as he shuffled away.