Yesterday I took a break from cleaning MoC’s apartment (and I don’t even want to think about unpacking in her new place) and went to see her.
We talked again about what she has to do in order to win her freedom, which includes being Ms. Cooperative and not making jokes the nurses don’t understand. She has some clay that she is supposed to use to work her right hand (which was not only affected by the strokes, but she also broke it). I opened it and gave it to her and she started molding it.
Me: Oh my God. You’re making a penis??
MoC: It’s not a penis.
Me: It is, too!
MoC looked at the short, stubby little cylindrical shape and then looked at me over the top of her glasses.
MoC: Obviously you haven’t seen very many.