the Dalaverse

So there has been yet another hospital visit. This one wasn't an actual heart attack. The doctor said it had something to do with muscle spasms. At this point, I'm starting to think the doctor is full of shit, but what the hell do I know? He went in at 4:00 yesterday morning. My mother and I went to the Washington/Minnesota game -- he insisted on it, didn't want to waste the tickets, etc. We won, but it sucked, because it's not football without Daddy. He was also stuck in the emergency room all fucking day because the regular rooms were all full. They finally put him in a private room last night, in the old pediatric unit. Mom is going to pick him up now and I'm staying here because I would prefer not to step foot in Shady Grove for the rest of my natural life.

I spent most of yesterday composing a bitter, angry rant in my head, but I'm going to scrap it now, in part because he's coming home and thus I can't summon the bitter and angry as well. I'll just salvage these two points.

First: the next person who says to me "Oh, I wish I could be an only child" I'm going to pop in the mouth. No, you don't. It means you're alone. I am so going to marry into a big family.

Second: for just a moment, I'm going to pretend I believe in the Christian version of the afterlife. When I die, I'm going to march up to the pearly white, minty fresh gates. I'm going to say, "Yo, Pete." And I"m going to demand that this miserable week and a half be given back to me.