As it turned out, the shoe was on quite the other foot. Quite the other foot. I awoke from a nightmare about 4 am (my mother was putting ammonia in my dad's seltzer and I didn't stop her and then I couldn't reach 911...)and on my way back from the restroom (note: refer to exclusively as 'restroom' from now on)found Slim, obviously stone dead, standing against the wall with a piece of banana bread in his hand. My scream woke him, though.
In other news of boyfriends, had a very troubling little 2-hour talk with GK4 (yes, my former fiance) last night. Read me a (long) excerpt from a (long) letter containing a (long) quote from "Ash Wednesday," which he'd sent to a girl with whom he's obsessed following 2 dates, in which he made her cry twice and talked A LOT about his views on treason (hint: they're punitive. And immoderate. He really wanted John Walker Lindh to get the chair.) Was discouraged from writing her again/sending her perfume. I hope he finds the love he deserves and can step back from the brink of madness, as I can tell him with authority it's not a terribly fun place to be.
Jesus wept. Or, I did, anyhow.