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My wife has always been one of those kind-hearted souls. Three years ago, Sheila, a sixty year old coworker of hers fell upon hard times. It seems Sheila's husband of thirty years decided the nineteen year old cocktail waitress at the local bar could offer him more in the way of sex and excitement so he left Sheila to navigate the world on her own. It wasn't long after the bastard left that Sheila realized the expenses of maintaining a five bedroom home exceeded the small pittance of alimony she received every month and so, she was forced to find a small, one-bedroom apartment located on the north side of town. Sheila's three kids were as useless as their father: two were in prison on drug charges and the other, the only daughter of the family, promptly informed her mother that the reason Sheila's father left was because Sheila was, in her own words, "Pretty lame as a mother." If I'd been there when that snide bitch uttered those words to her mother, I'd have fixed her attitude in a way she would have found quite unpleasant. But I wasn't, and that's a good thing.

After six months, however, Sheila's nerves and self-confidence began to fray and the effects of too many dramatic and personal changes in too short a time began to affect Sheila both at work and at home. Being alone certainly didn't help but it was while she was at work that Sheila began to miss deadlines, the quality of her work suffered, and many times she missed work altogether. Because my wife's cubicle was located beside Sheila's and since they'd known each other five years, Margie, my wife, asked if Sheila could move in to our home just for the ...

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