Reality Check 4

"This is a silhouette of adventure, a mystery  that no one will be able to understand," said Simon, smiling to himself, as he carefully tucked his lengthy manuscript under his mattress. "I understand what I wrote. No one else has to, as all of the genius minds in the world have put their thoughts in writing at one time or another. They have been misunderstood and many of their creative works are now considered to be far beyond their time."

Simon stretched out on his bed and relaxed, as he often did after completing a lengthy chapter on his novel. He realized that he was getting to be an old man, and knew that his time on this earth was relatively limited, but intellectually, writing still represented an ongoing challenge to him.

"That is what I want to dedicate my time to doing."

The elderly man did not like sharing his work with anyone, as negative criticism invariably forced him into doing re-writes, which he despised.

Simon would work long hours every day, often well into the night, avoid contact or interaction with other people and skip his meals. It usually did not seem to matter to him whether he showered or shaved, changed his clothes, had his hair cut or shined his shoes. In fact, nothing mattered to him except his writing.

"There is plenty of time for that later," he told himself, as well as his family and others who chided him for not taking better care of himself. "I will get around to that."

Simon had piles of old bills and loose papers scattered everywhere around the tiny room.

"They are not that important to me," he argued when anyone who suggested he needed to keep an eye on them or at least look at them more closely. "So what if some of them are checks? It is only money."

"Demonic obsession," his oldest son had called his preoccupation with writing. "This is insane!"

"According to you. I am a writer," Simon insisted, shaking his fist in his son's face. "Get out of here and never come back. Now!"

Simon suspected that his son had maligned him with virtually everyone else in his family. 'Trying to save face', he had told the rest of the family that Simon was fighting with everyone. Meanwhile, Simon was not fighting with anyone, but merely wanted to focus on his work.

It was three fifteen in the morning, when Simon sauntered out into the hallway towards the kitchenette. A tiny mouse spotted him coming and quickly scurried back into his hole in the floor board.

"Oh, you think I didn't see you, old friend?" Simon asked. "I know where you live."

On the way back to his room,  as he went by again, Simon 'accidentally on purpose' dropped a piece of cheese on the floor for him. The mouse quickly spotted it, ran out, picked it up and scurried back into hiding.

"The security guards would be very upset if they spotted me doing that."

Returning to his room and placing his sandwich on the desk, Simon quickly grabbed a towel and headed for the shower room. He needed a shave badly. "It is too late to shave tonight, old boy!" he decided, as he looked in the mirror. "No rush."

It was too late as one of the security guards had already picked up his activity on the retirement home monitor.

"He is feeding that mouse again!"

"What?"

"Simon is out and about," he told the chubby man working his first night as a security guard. "See, that is him in the hallway again."

"Is he with it?" asked the new security guard. 

"No one really knows for sure. He comes and goes whenever he likes and seems fine, at least as long as no one interrupts him when he is writing."

"What happens then?"

"He can get pretty angry and potentially violent, according to his son who says 'Simon fights with everyone'. I have never seen him angry with anyone or if he is, he certainly does not show it. Just leave him to do his own thing."

"Maybe he needs a reality check?"

"I would leave that to the experts," suggested the security guard. "Maybe after you have been here for a while."