This is me, in the nursing home near the Cathedral called the Terraces of Skyline. It's so quiet, it is a bit daunting at midnight;, but me;, I'm wide awake. I was full of soap opera drama when I got
myself into the hospital;,.went totally self ;centered and quite gabby too. Strokes and pneumonias, wow, just the stuff I wanted to impress myself with! Now I've got some sensible notes in a file of copies of reports \written as I was released, trained, scolded; and I can look at the file in five years if you need any accurate detail! Really;, it's all pretty insignificant except for my view that these strange things ;are glamorous and exciting.
One: I seem to have been convinced that falling down and going boom could make ;me termiinal. Two, I seem to have thought I had the worst damage in the world, oh dear!
I probably was just seeking the right reason not to leave Seattle this fall. Bill has admitted that our present ticket plans for November fourth are getting tiresomely complicated when trying to judge his schedule.
Fourth, the awkward aftermath here for me is the blunt truth -- two separate issues. How do you cook, sleep, and visit with people day to day when you've sold your car and lazed out so much? ;And if you have been getting away with maximum self-indulgence and loafing as I have (definitely) , how far in outreach is appropriate? :Will changing the weather help stir up a heathier attitude in me?