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poliphilo My mother had a very bad day and we thought she was dying. She whined, she wept, she wouldn't let anybody near her. Turns out she was only having a very bad day and not dying at all. The nurse from the Crisis Team who came to look her over in the evening said, in effect, that she was made of boilerplate.
Thing is the ghost that inhabits this wonderfully resilient machine is absent most of the time- probably up on the astral having tea parties with departed relatives- and we're tasked with servicing the machine that its ghost has little use for.
In fact we're tied to it, not daring to leave it unattended, while th ghost is off, free as a bird, living a life of perfect freedom.
T'aint fair.
Book I'm reading says it's unwise to suppress anger. Anger is an energy. Either let it out (Is this me letting it out? I hope so because it seems a fairly harmless way of venting) or allow it to churn and do damage to your insides.
I've been apprised of the existence of a Death Cafe that meets once a month in town. Folk sit around at tables, order up delicious Italian food, and talk about death. Sounds right up my street. I'll talk about death with anybody. favourite subject of mine. But if i go I'll be leaving Ailz to mind the machine for a couple of hours- and that ain't fair on her.
If I hear that voice go "Anthonee" one more time...
...I will rush to its owner's side and manhandle her on and off the commode or whatever is needful and try to do it in a frank and loving spirit...
Thing is the ghost that inhabits this wonderfully resilient machine is absent most of the time- probably up on the astral having tea parties with departed relatives- and we're tasked with servicing the machine that its ghost has little use for.
In fact we're tied to it, not daring to leave it unattended, while th ghost is off, free as a bird, living a life of perfect freedom.
T'aint fair.
Book I'm reading says it's unwise to suppress anger. Anger is an energy. Either let it out (Is this me letting it out? I hope so because it seems a fairly harmless way of venting) or allow it to churn and do damage to your insides.
I've been apprised of the existence of a Death Cafe that meets once a month in town. Folk sit around at tables, order up delicious Italian food, and talk about death. Sounds right up my street. I'll talk about death with anybody. favourite subject of mine. But if i go I'll be leaving Ailz to mind the machine for a couple of hours- and that ain't fair on her.
If I hear that voice go "Anthonee" one more time...
...I will rush to its owner's side and manhandle her on and off the commode or whatever is needful and try to do it in a frank and loving spirit...
