Saturday

I had such a nice afternoon. My sister and Wonderful Niece came over, and K and I brought them to see R's apartment, where they had never been, and then we all went out to lunch near there. She lives in a very charming small city. Lunch was excellent. We went to a Thai place but it was closed, so we went to a Mediterranean place just up the street, and it was all delicious.

But it was very cold and windy walking around on the street, which was not so pleasant. Afterwards, though, we took a ride around and looked at some of the big houses -- this city has a very old upscale neighborhood, with gigantic Victorians -- and then dropped R off at home. After we got back to my house and the Sibs and Niece took off, both K and I dropped off into deep naps.

K is sick with what sounds like an upper respiratory infection, just blooming, as it were, today. She is coughing and coughing, and feels just awful. She was pretty medicated this morning, but now it's making her miserable.

Speaking of coughing, the Hubs coughed and hacked for a good two hours or more last night. It's hard to believe that this is just from stopping smoking; it sounds as if he's got something else or he's giving himself something else. All that coughing can't be good for his throat. I didn't even remember this until last night while I was listening to him go on, that his grandfather had throat cancer. It's not what he died of, though (that was an embolism after routine surgery, like gall bladder or something), but I asked the Hubs once many years ago if his grandfather spoke with an accent, and he said he didn't really know. I thought this was odd, since he was close to his grandfather, who died when the Hubs was fourteen, but he explained that his grandfather had had throat cancer when he, the Hubs, was a baby, and so he never really spoke after that. He had that hole in his throat, and I guess he could make himself understood, but he didn't actually speak. And here's his devoted grandson, not at all concerned with what's going on in there in his own body.

And this, folks, is what therapy is for. For me, I mean. I haven't called yet because things have been relatively quiet, but last night was stressful, and I've got to make that call this week. Stress is not good for me. I'll be curious to see if I have a little mini-relapse this week, as I did a few weeks ago after another stressful weekend. Although he seems fine now. He was working out in the yard when we came home, and that relaxes him.

Okay. Finished Truman, finally, and also Persepolis, very good. My sister gave me two books today; I'm contemplating Open House, by Elizabeth Berg. It's so nice to be back into reading again.

WATCHING THE SIMPSONS :: ENTRY #1713