Feeling somewhat undone today,I decided to go back to bed after my stretches, something I rarely do. When I got up, I still wasn’t ready to tackle things, so I sat at the computer and ordered something from Avon and my rep, Linda, whom I know socially since her sister is my buddy, Leeanne, said there was a free shipping Labor Day offer. When I got to checkout, I was still charged $3. I didn’t fight it. I’ll complain when I see Linda.

Then I started playing Freecell. This game will go down in my personal history as the single most destructive hobby I have ever indulged in since I space out and don’t do anything else. But while I am playing, my mind roams freely and today I dwelled on an old doctor memory and composed a little diatribe that I ought to have let loose on him but didn’t because he held too many strings concerning my late husband that I didn’t want to cut.

He was the neurologist who operated to release fluid from the brain. While this lengthy procedure was taking place, I hung out at a park nearby, sleeping on a bench, and wondering if I was going to get hauled in for vagrancy. I wasn’t looking any too fresh, having been up all night. Finally I checked the time and went back to the hospital, Beth Israel on 1st Avenue and 16th Street in Manhattan, and asked for information and the doctor was at lunch and his P.A., who had acquired some of his distance from patients because, after all, didn’t she work for God? Wasn’t she his Right Hand? Didn’t she too deserve homage and, please, not to bother her?

Then I went to the local Greek diner and there the great man was, lunching with a colleague. When I approached, he blanched. I can’t remember now what he said. But what I didn’t say, was, “Look here you bloated son-of-a-bitch, I don’t want to date you, or lean on you emotionally, or invite you over, because, frankly, you seem to be a one trick pony who probably has no social skills of any kind and you would bore the shit out of me. But since this trick CONCERNS MY HUSBAND, I want all the information NOW." But I didn’t say any of that. Instead, here, 20 years or more later, I am still privy to these thoughts, they still pop up now and then. Of course the prognosis was dim, but you can't leave loved ones hanging. It’s cruel and unnecessary.

The next thing I must do is some exercise. I need to have dinner and that is just not possible if I don’t move my little body. It’s simple math: Exercise equals permission to eat. The tyranny of it all.

xx, Teal