The Curious Case of Mrs. Weaver

The announcement of a new neighbor moving into the 'hood usually looks something like this:









Mrs. Weaver's announcement was an entirely different proposition altogether....
It was a nice peaceful Saturday: I was working on the computer, hubby was in the kitchen reading, and my Beubie (my cat) was doing what she does best, sleeping on the couch. When what to our wondering ears did alight but the sound of an unfamiliar voice emanating from the living room, a voice calling out for "Anne." Now, there is of course no one living here by that name, nor anyone on either side of our families with that name. By this point, I have joined my freaked out Beubie (who, in full disclosure, is scared of everyone but the two of us) in the hallway to determine the origin of this mysterious voice standing IN MY LIVING ROOM.

Old age is mystifying in terms of where lucidity shows up. Mrs. Weaver knew her name, and her address, but did not at all know that she was in the wrong house, not even after looking around. This same dance didn't even seem familiar later, when she returned to close the gate behind my husband after he pulled into the garage from work. He asked her if she needed help, and she informed him that she lived here. He, almost feeling mean, informed her it was indeed he that lived here, then escorted her back to what I'm sure will be a place he frequents.


Supposedly there is something to be learned from every experience. Here is what I have learned: I shall no longer keep the screen door unlocked no matter how much the inviting breezes tempt me to do so. God bless Mrs. Weaver. A sweet, fortunately harmless new neighbor. I only wish her mind would let her realize she moved into the neighborhood, not our house. I half expect her to make a disconcerting appearance in a bed or on the couch!