Old People + Tissues

What is it about getting old and feeling the need to have a million tissues on and about your person at all times?

I first noticed this phenomenon with Chip’s grandfather, Leon. “Poppy” always had to have tissues. Mind you, he always had a handkerchief in his front pocket, but he also had a wad of Kleenex in the other pocket, and the back pocket, and up his sleeve, and in his sweater pockets. Laundry was always a challenge – if you didn’t check each and every hiding place, the load was ruined by shreds of paper. I also must tell you that I was always scared to death about doing his laundry. There’s something very risky about feeling around in an old man’s clothing – ya never know what you’re going to pull out… a cookie, or cracker, or half a ham sammy that he was “saving for later.” Eesh.

We are now having the same fun with Aunt Mabel. She’s been feeling poorly for the past few weeks, and there was a need to have a box of tissues at hand. I get that. Couldn’t she just keep them in their home (the tissue box)? Why on Earth would she need a handful if tissues in her pockets (BOTH pockets), in a pile on the bed, in a pile on the nightstand, a pile on the bathroom country, on her dresser, in her purse, tucked up in her sleeve…

What the hay is all that about anyway?