Kmart of my dreams

    So the Kmart of my childhood, which creeps entirely too often into my dreams, bites the dust momentarily. As I've noted elsewhere, I'm not at all sure which is worse: losing the Kmart of my childhood, or just having to admit that I had a Kmart of my childhood. I still have some 45s with the 68 cent Key 1 sticker on them. Their efforts ten-odd years ago to turn the store into an imitation Super Walmart never quite panned out. I would go there from time to time, but service varied from miserable all the way up to very poor. So it's hard to miss them very much. But it's always hard to lose a link to younger days, even if those weren't all that stellar either. Now if they'd only close the one in my dreams.
    Dad will get to go to Brittany's wedding after all. He just skips dialysis. The official word is that although they can't recommend him doing so, there are no adverse consequences. (Assuming his kidneys can do the job for two extra days, that is.) We cross our fingers and hope for the best.