My sister Anne has been sick all month, so she couldn't come down to see Dad. (She, brother Malcolm, and her son James and his young family, all live in the Boston area.) As of Sunday, she thought she was getting better so she made her drive down. But unfortunately, she got worse instead, so now she's in town but can't see any of us for fear of passing it on to Dad, if not directly than through us. It's nothing serious, just a bad cold/flu type thing, but nothing to share with 94-year-olds. I'm sure it will clear up enough not to be contagious, and anyway there's such a thing as surgical masks. But it's just rotten stinking luck, and just not Thanksgivingy.
I've been buying art and furniture. Cheap art and cheap furniture, of course, but still. It's almost like I've finally decided to move here after 6 years. Or like I've finally admitted that I won't ever be moving out with a girlfriend (since the place isn't big enough for two).
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