This is just a quick note to thank whoever it was who managed to get the book about the Great Galveston Hurricane to my hospital bedside. It is all a blear to me, but I do remember that book appearing out of the haze.
Currently I feel considerably worse than I did before I went in. I have the ironic sense someone clouted me with a sledgehammer, and I am suppose to thank them.
I was going to announce I had died, pretending to be some other very sad person, because I thought it would be fun to attend my own memorial like Tom Sawyer. Also poems are suppose to sell a lot better once your dead, and by being just a little bit dishonest I could get more enjoyment than dead poets do. However in the end my blasted honest side kicked in. I’m alive and, if not well, am kicking.
Now to withdraw to maps of the North Pole. Ahhh! Peace at last! (Though I must admit it looks a bit boring up there…. at the moment.)