Day in and day out — for years, he came into our kitchen holding a can of soup, slowly opening it and then eating it directly out of the container, cold.
At first, we would ask, “Richard, why don’t you let us heat that up for you?” to which he would reply, “No, no, this will do.” Eventually, we resigned ourselves to simply handing him the can opener — seemingly the only assistance he would receive.
He sleeps in his van; it is dark and dank and has a small hole that he drilled in just above the right wheel well so he can pee at night. ...