Course of Action

The dog bite is still an extremely painful nuisance.  I'm draining pus out of it regularly, but it feels feverish and hurts to bend.  Still, reading The Gun Seller and watching "The West Wing" are helping out a lot.

A blogging friend whom I did not know long enough, Paula Kilgallon, died a few days ago, after battling Multiple Myeloma for, I think, three years.  She was remarkably good-humored and positive about her situation, and I have been so very saddened at her loss.  Dear God, let someone somewhere see the light and stop focusing on how to give men erections and turn their efforts to killing this monster cancer.

I'll be going to Nashville next week, to meet with an estate sale dealer.  It would destroy Mama, as intensely, almost pathologically, private as she was, to know that strangers were roaming through her house, but I simply cannot do it by myself.  An estate sale clears the house out of all but the necessities, and prepares it for someone (it's looking more and more like Hannah at this point) to move in and make it their own.

I've realized I couldn't live in that house.  The times I've been up there since she died have been sheer disasters.  And it isn't the house I grew up in;  there aren't really the stock of memories that Briton and Hannah have.  So I'll go up for a few days and set things in motion, and then take the next step when it's time.