Went with John to his liver specialist's appointment. Sat in the waiting room drinking iced coffee, reading 6 month old issues of the New Yorker and listening to some dude talk about how he plans on managing his methadone and oxycontin with his interferon treatments and how he knows he needs to go to more AA meetings. Motherfucker didn't shut up the entire time. If there's anyone more self-centered than an addict or former addict I hope to GOD I never ever cross their path. After we left I told John I'm thinking about getting a gun just so I can threaten people who talk too loudly or too much in waiting rooms. We both decided I probably should stop watching "The Godfather" every night.
On the way home we stopped at Arbys and drowned our sorrows and our shirt fronts in horsey sauce.
What I've read: "Plain Song" by Kent Haruf. Just wonderful. "Hawkes Harbour" by S.E. Hinton. Yes. THAT S.E. Hinton. It was a damn train wreck.
What I'm reading: "The Knowledge of Water" by Sarah Smith.