this is drivin me nuts

I'm on a different floor of my house, freezing my fingers off.

And I can't even respond to comments on this computer. It goes into some Twilight Zone.

It took me like twenty minutes to approve four comments.

So I'll respond to one comment here.

I hit myself in the forehead on my most recent visit to the doctor. I was having more than my usual trouble with word recall. Oh dear. Hope that didn't look too crazy.

Mom used to do the pep talk thing. She'd proclaim loudly that the only way she'd leave the house was "feet first"! Ended up dying in hospice, still making proclamations about what she had to do when she got home, though in her eyes we could see that she understood.

Yeah, where do we get that from, Amy?

Do chimps do the "damn i'm stupid" hitting their forehead thing?

Jane Goodall, help?

I do it too.

Maybe we're both just Italian and don't know it. (Bah-bah-bump!)

Don't we all say that once we've chosen our to-the-death nook?

Not to leave the house until death? I don't want to even leave my body at death. Or am I missing the point of death?

I believe those things she was saying, Amy, are called bravery.

A.k.a. keeping up appearances for appearance's sake.

Or as a friend responded tersely to me yesterday on this blog after I shoulded a paragraph of death karma on the floor: "The show must go on."

Unless you're Samuel Beckett.

In which case the show mustn't go on.

xo