I got to the hospital, parked, clumsily gathered all the things I was bringing in (the bag of toys and my bookbag, plus a jacket it wasn't quite cold enough to wear, yet somehow this made a clumsy bundle), turned back, tried to re-park so I wouldn't be quite so obnoxiously close to the car on the right of me, got out, found I wasn't really much better off and decided, with that irrational and repeatedly and easily disproved by looking at any watch, bank dot-matrix display, or listening to traffic reports on the radio belief it was an hour later than it actually was decided to go ahead with where I had been parked.( Collapse )
Somewhere around a quarter to nine a nurse came in to tidy up things in general and my father suggested that perhaps we should be going. Good thought; I had a 6 am flight to take, and I still had a phone to open up and, I dearly hoped, get working without problems. On the way home, I stopped at Dunkin' Donuts to buy a half-dozen for the drive up in the morning.
Trivia: New England's textile mills grew rapidly enough in the first half of the 19th century that profits averaged 24 percent annually for twenty consecutive years (until 1845). Source: Big Cotton, Stephen Yafa.
Currently Reading: Asimov's Choice: Black Holes and Bug-Eyed Monsters, Editor George H Scithers. You know, this is a really enjoyable book. Maybe science fiction of the 70s wasn't a dread wasteland of inflation-ravaged resource-starved post-New-Wave doom after all.