I’M NOT CRYING YOU’RE CRYING.
WHO’S CUTTING ONIONS?!? — Graham
Waiting rooms are all the same, but the better ones have good furniture.
I am sitting on a pretty decent couch, by institutional standards. I was just sleeping. My head was on my jean jacket. I have brought my computer, a book, and several magazines. We were here yesterday for three to five hours. I can’t remember. Today we are just supposed to be here for an hour but waiting rooms and facilities have a way of holding on to you longer than you expected.
I got married last year, six months ago yesterday. My wife and I have gone to California, to see her—our—family. One of them, who I won’t describe, is approaching the end of a life and death health crisis. My wife and I were at home in Seattle when it happened. My wife feels terribly that she was not here. I feel a vague concern, but mostly for her. Her family has not been my family for that long.
The ones who have been family for a long time are tired. . .