I Don't Think I'm A Witty Person.

It's Funny How Certain Objects Convey A Message - My Washer And Dryer, For Example. They Can't Speak, Of Course, But Whenever I Pass Them They Remind Me That I'm Doing Fairly Well. "no More Laundromat For You," They Hum. My Stove, A Downer, Tells Me Every Day That I Can't Cook, And Before I Can Defend Myself My Scale Jumps In, Shouting From The Bathroom, "well, He Must Be Doing _something - _my Numbers Is Off The Charts." The Skeleton Has A Much More Limited Vocabulary, And Says Only One Thing: "you Are Going To Die."

Remember That The Most Important Thing Is To Try And Love Other People As Much As They Love You.

We Were Not A Hugging People. In Terms Of Emotional Comfort It Was Our Belief That No Amount Of Physical Contact Could Match The Healing Powers Of A Well Made Cocktail.

His Embarassment Would Have Pleased Me, But Once He Recovered, There Would Be That Awkward Period That Sometimes Culminates In A Handshake. I Didn't Want To Touch These People's Hands Or See Things From Their Point Of View, I Just Wanted To Continue Hating Them. So I Kept My Mouth Shut And Stared Off Into Space.

Hugh Consoled Me, Saying, "don't Let It Get To You. There Are Plenty Of Things You're Good At." When Asked For Some Examples, He Listed Vacuuming And Naming Stuffed Animals. He Says He Can Probably Come Up With A Few More, But He'll Need Some Time To Think.