Tomorrow is another day

Of course this, and not "Frankly, my dear, I don't give a damn." is the last line of Gone With The Wind. Movie and novel (or so I hear, I've not read it nor am I likely to). But don't remember anything in that movie actually leaving with the wind. That's puzzling.

In my current context, it just refers to the numbness that comes from being in a hospital for almost exactly 11 days from arrival. We're doing pretty well now, in the grand scheme of things. Ronnie has a private room with a nice view of the river and natural light, and it's much quieter here than in even the nicer ICU.

I've lost count of how many times I've been up and down the stairs. Okay, I was never actually counting that, because that would be weird and obsessive, but you know what I mean. I've tried to vary where I get lunch and dinner every day, but it's hard to differentiate when the days are structurally so similar.

There's a track meet at the Armory across the street, as there tends to be on weekends. Last week was high school. This week is college. On my way back from Starbucks (Ronnie may not be feeling good, but she still enjoys a (decaf) latte) I saw a pack of University of Arizona women jogging around the block. They're from Arizona, so they're all blonde and pretty but they can spit like pros.

I keep feeling like there's something else I wanted to say, but I guess later today is the same day, and that'll be okay.