But it's not clear what you gain in the exercise. We'll see if my opinion improves as I continue further. S elf-imposed exile from the Web is going very nicely. M's sister's husband did ask me to connect last night so we could ask NASA for the Space Station's overflight schedule. We're pretty sure we saw it.
Space stations are cool.
Her place is a mess, a disaster area. Clean clothes hang out of open drawers, dirty clothes lie patternless on the rug, books, pens, cardboard boxes, dishes, balloons mix in utter confusion on the floor and the chairs. I like to think that this reflects a solid confidence in her, the desire and ability to take things as they happen to fall, to function comfortably in the chaos. But I wonder this morning, for the first time, if there's some frailty waiting to strike, some unsuspected support deep down in her world, single and barely strong enough for the task, that snapping some singular day might leave her helpless and bewildered, overcome among the mess and debris, unable to find her keys. Maybe she should clean up.