Salisbury T. Whitman (Because I felt like writing)

     Salisbury T. Whitman creaked out of bed on the left side, groped around for his favorite cane, and shuffled over to the bathroom. He got dressed in brown pants and a white shirt with a blue tie, and proceeded to the kitchen by way of the back staircase. Upon reaching the kitchen, he made himself a caramel macchiato and stumbled out into the living room and sank into his overstuffed armchair.
     Mr. Whitman, known to his friends as Whit, never believed in doing anything the same way twice, including having the same name. Salisbury was his original name, but he liked change, almost too much. He was quite sprightly for sixty-four, and liked to go for a walk every day, but of course on different routes. He would often see curtains sweep closed and mothers speed up with their strollers, as he was known as the odd old codger down the road by many. In fact there were only two families that knew him well, Ms. Lawrence across the road (Who he always sent flowers), and Mr. and Mrs. Hansen and their two boys, Elliot and Christopher, who always wanted him to tell them tales of action and adventure and flying carpets.
     This particular morning, there was an unexpected knock on the door. He straggled over to the door and was met with a delightful surprise. Girl Scouts were there, and they had Thin Mints, which he loved. He paid for his cookies and went back to the armchair, but not without snagging a few cookies for the trip there, however short it may be. He sighed contentedly, although there was something troubling on his mind. He was running out of things to do each day. He looked through the living room into the kitchen, where he could spy the cookies coaxing him to eat a few more. He wished he could share them with someone, but he had already gone to both the Hansen's and Ms. Lawrence's house for tea last week. He sighed again.
     Now this doesn't occur normally, and if it does occur it has something to do with saving the worls or losing weight, but Mr. Salisbury T.Whitman had a revelation. He was sick of being alone. He wanted to adopt a child.