I was a little disappointed it wasn't more mystical.

there are some holy symbols embroidered in various places, but not a single one of them has a red S on the chest.

Well, Romney's may have.

I know, right? It sounds like something that might be kind of awesome and yet, not so much.

I enjoyed the semi-scandalized discussions about times when Ann Romney was probably not wearing The Garments.

Poor Homer is shaky on his legs tonight, which I weirdly hope is from a seizure today, because that should mean it gets better through the night. I'm starting to think next weekend will be It, though.

Suela, there's no way, right?

I have wine. And chips.

Well, I don't know...it magically lets me decide that the mission boys aren't that cute. That's kind of mystical.

Aw, Jesse, sad about Homer!

Aw, poor Homer. I'm so sorry for you guys.

Poor Homer. Poor Jesse.

Suela, there's no way, right?

I find it unlikely. Or, well, even if it happened, he's unlikely to walk away from her: he knows it's the disease (even if it's painful to listen to). She would continue to be supported, and besides, most of the time she wouldn't remember having divorced him and would be upset that he wasn't there.

The staff at the place concur that the desperate frantic need to leave seems to mostly be replaced by rage. She still wants to get out but isn't demanding quite as much to be taken away right that moment. Now it's more anger at the perceived betrayal by her family.

Consuela, intellectually I can't grasp having the energy to have the emotional responses your mother is--does she get wrung out after a phone call or a bout of yelling at your father?

I'm trying to imagine scenarios of divorce but not separation, and you could just hand her the paperwork and go sit in the lounge until she changes her mood. It would assume a partner made of stone, however, and that's also more energy than I can divine.

My clever plan to not eat at my desk backfired. I got wussy about it and then a co-worker I haven't chatted with in a while was in the restaurant and I couldn't see how to disengage without seeming rude.

And with my lunchtime appetite (I've finished the half grilled cheese sandwich and am playing with the cooling cup of soup rather than eat) it seems silly to take up an entire chair never mind table in restaurant.

So I need to stick to my plan of leaving before five. Really near four, maybe.

Library bedbugs: [link]

The staff at the place concur that the desperate frantic need to leave seems to mostly be replaced by rage. She still wants to get out but isn't demanding quite as much to be taken away right that moment. Now it's more anger at the perceived betrayal by her family.

This is going to sound weird, but that shift seems kind of fast, which is maybe a good thing? I mean, maybe she'll have shifted again, in a better direction for you, in another couple of weeks.

This is going to sound weird, but that shift seems kind of fast, which is maybe a good thing?

That was my thought. Even though I'm sure it feels endless.