The important news first: my mother is out of the hospital, and feeling quite good, and has already plunged into work. Not quite the full workload --- she skipped the two classes she teaches as adjunct for her alma mater --- but the stuff that pays worth anything she's back into.
Also, ah, well. She was in the hospital. She was feeling badly last Wednesday night, but I didn't see her until after her usual bedtime, so as far as I knew she was just asleep early and soundly. Thursday morning, as I was getting ready for a stupid day of work, I saw she was sick --- she looked rather like Tom right after Jerry has tricked him into swallowing a lit stick of dynamite --- but she insisted she could get to work, do what she had to, and come home to collapse. She came home around noon, and by the time I got home she was going up to the hospital for, she expected, an overnight stay.
That didn't last. She had a kidney infection, and it took a day-plus to figure out just which bug she had. Then it took a while to get a full 24-hour stretch without a spike in her temperature. So it was not until Monday afternoon that she was ready and able to come home. She was feeling very good at that point, though, and was perfectly confident that she would be able to go to work the next day, as she did.
This was what was going on in the background during bunny_hugger's most recent visit to me.
Trivia: In 1885 emigrant passage from Hamburg to New York cost $7. Shipping lines running from Southampton to Singapore charged around £ 68. Source: The Age Of Capital: 1848 - 1875, Eric Hobsbawm.
Currently Reading: The Complete Prose Of Woody Allen, Woody Allen. Man, his (apparently) effortless way at gigantic, surreal moments ... I envy that writing facility. Whenever I try to write big nonsense it comes out feeling strained.