OK. We’re coming up on Good Friday. The Crucifixion of Our Lord sickens me. This was nothing out of the ordinary in the Roman World. This was a world where unwanted babies were allowed to die. Some things never change.

J wanted me to spend “time” with her while she watched Emergency!, a 70’s show of fictionalized stories about ER doctors, nurses and paramedics. All in all, it wasn’t a bad series, except the music set the dramatic tone with lots of brass. Completely unsettling. After half an hour of this, I wanted to die.

Two mentions of death in the first two paragraphs should tell you that my head is not in a good space. It got hot in Richmond, not unusual, where Spring morphs into Summer after about three weeks. We’ll sweat it out till about Hallowe’en. 

I might watch a World War Two documentary where the Bad Guys get what they deserve. Or cartoons. Maybe cartoons would be better. The manic antics of Daffy Duck are absolutely therapeutic.

I could not stand another minute in bed with J. There, I said it.