Today when I arrived at the Birch Street Nursing Home, I was surprised to find Mrs. Patterson back at her spot at the poker table. Even more surprising was that she didn't mention Mrs. Shimshack a single time. During the first bathroom break, Mrs. Lieberman told me she had had enough of Mrs. Patterson's shenanigans and so had stayed up last night with her to learn just what it was that she was seeing out her window every Friday night. Well, it turns out it was Mr. Matthews. He was standing out in the yard last night, pretending to be the dead Mrs. Shimshack. He disguised his voice and kept threatening that he was coming to take Mrs. Patterson's last remaining possessions. I am glad Mrs. Lieberman put a stop to it, because now we have enough poker players without me having to ask Mr. Matthews to join us. That also means I don't have to help Mr. Matthews put on his pants, or massage his thighs, or bathe him anymore.
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