We’re at a mobile home that has so much dirty clutter it can be an episode of Hoarders. We’re trying to coax an old lady out of the home and onto the gurney. Except she is absolutely not going anywhere until we’ve retrieved from among the huge piles of junk her toothbrush, toothpaste, hair brush and underwear.
I don’t know why. Nor do I care.
Anyway, 15 minutes go by, and after we’ve climbed through everything and finally found all the items that she wants to bring with her, she finally starts to move slowly toward the door, shuffling along with her cane. Then the firefighter asks in earnest, “Do you want your purse too?”
Frantically giving him the “zip it” and “cut throat” signs, I mumble through gritted teeth, “Ixnay on the ursepay!”
He does a facepalm, realizing what he’s just done.
We spend another 10 minutes on scene.