There's this geezer that works security for the booze-a-rama I frequent. He works there at least on Friday and Saturday nights; I haven't seen him the couple of Saturdays that I've been there earlier in the day. He's either retired military or retired law enforcement, or both - his brass name plate says "Major [his name]". He's really nice and I love talking to him. He likes us because we visit with him and call him "sir", and also because we don't try to hold up the liquor store and cause him grief and shit.

Yesterday when we were there, he was asking about what had been up with us and telling us about him. Apparently his daughter is married to a military guy who is deployed, which upsets The Major because with her husband gone, she's bored with nothing to do but take care of him.

"She keeps coming and cleaning my house!" he declared, in outrage. "She cleans up everything! Then I can't never find NOTHING. She puts all my stuff away...she put my tea glasses in the freezer...says she likes to keep them cold or something, I don't know....all I know is, I don't ever know where anything is!"

We told him that we were going to Alan's family reunion (for his mom's side of the family) and asked about his weekend plans. The Major heaved a sigh and said, "I got to go to Goodwill and buy my stuff back! I told you she was there cleaning...I tell her, I use that stuff, I need that, that's mine. But every time, I got to go to Goodwill and spend my money to get my own stuff back!"

I love The Major.