pocket knives

I inherited my deceased grandfather's pocket knives. It should be noted that among his living siblings and descendants there are over a dozen males, but apparently I was still voted "most masculine". 

Every single one of these knives has a toothpick. I have never used the toothpicks from any of my own pocket knives, but now I have my grandfather's old toothpicks. I pulled out the first grubby toothpick, which possibly pre-dates the Great Depression, and asked, "So, who dares me to use granddad's toothpick?"

Everyone emphatically does not want me to do so.

the care package

I make care packages to give to homeless people. I'm not trying to impress you here; just setting up some background. They're nothing fancy, just basics like socks, snacks and drinks, toothbrush, and that sort of thing.

So anyway, I was assaulted recently. The police got involved and it was a whole thing. They insisted that I go to the hospital ...again.

When a nurse told me I was being admitted, I asked my friend Mouta if he could bring me some stuff. My laptop, toothbrush, snacks, etc.

And Mouta, being a real saint, immediately drove to my house and returned in record time with my laptop and a homeless person care package. Knowing Mouta, I'm still not sure if he was being practical or trying to amuse me. He accomplished both.

(And I'm totally fine. Mouta and nurses are truly salt of the Earth.)