Death warmed over.
No brain activity, other than the squirrel chasing it’s tail.
RT – Romantic Times Booklovers Convention – THE place to find madness and join the frenzy. Ask me details – I don’t remember.
Ask me who I saw – I don’t remember.
Ask me what I ate – Okay, I do remember the beignets.
What panels did I attend? – I don’t remember, but I bet I have notes. Somewhere.
Why did she give me a flamingo? I asked her later, she said she had a bunch of them in her room.
I had good reason for muddle-headedness. Beyond what is normal at RT. My sister, three years older than I, was back in California, in the hospital, learning she had lung cancer.
I desperately tried to keep busy…knowing I’d be home on Sunday and seeing her in the hospital on Monday.
Now? Two weeks past RT. Head is still muddled. Sister is home and we are dealing with what the future holds. RT is unpacked, washed and put away.
Save for the flamingo…but I’ll get to him.
Keep reading, my friends. It’s the only shelter I’ve found that works completely.