Jean is in the hospital still. I went to see her in the ICU. A little ironic, she walked into the ER and now she's in intensive care, which she really doesn't need, hopefully. I took my time getting up and out, but I went to see her when I was shaved, fed et cetera. I snuck in the first time. Didn't mean to, but sometimes my propensity for getting lost is a very powerful attribute. I got the floor at the front desk, found the elevator, walked by the waiting room without reading the sign that told me to use that phone first (receptionists are a thing of the past I guess) and wandered in the direction that seemed right. Indeed, I wound up in the ICU via the side hall. The nurses were unimpressed. -Why didn't you call? they asked. Oopsie.

Jean was bored. We hung out, talked about the Shires and Eleanora. She's in the hospital too, having a somewhat tougher time than Jean, though Jean's problem is potentially very serious. I am highly empathetic to boredom though, and since I knew I couldn't hang out all night I went back to the hill and got a couple of her magazines and a magnifier. When I returned I followed the proper protocol. Interesting ritual. Important if the person you want to visit is in serious trouble or if they're having some other kind of catastrophic event in there, I suppose. I delivered the goods and we talked for a while more, about technology, John's magazine and health care. In the course of it Jean somehow got unplugged from one of the machines that goes *ping* (buzz, actually), for whatever irony factor that may be. She seemed a bit tired and I was fighting the stir crazies, so I hugged her goodbye since I didn't think that I'd have time to visit her on Thanksgiving and we both doubted that they'd let her out so soon.

I went on to Harvard Square, via a long walk around the hospital neighborhood looking for the Charles Street Jail (didn't find it, thanks power of lostness; or maybe I did and didn't know it) and the Red Line. Wandered around for a bit finding new places to get lost. Cold, cold, cold. Went into Wordsworth's. Scoped the Dover Thrift Editions, scanned a little fiction, read a dog training book (did it help Carmella?) and part of Flatterland. Fun... I actually do understand complex numbers and fractals. Too bad I have no discipline... I might have passed calculus. O well. Bought the DTE Mabinogion (which I'd purchased in NY already but somehow lost... prolly in a drunken train sleep... one of my more dangerous hobbies) and Chekhov. Had dinner at a little pub, Turkey burger and fries with a three mustard sauce. Tasty! Of course, I did have to add Tabasco. O my addictions! O yes, and a Sam with the burger and a Glenfidditch 18 for dessert. Addictions, addictions. I'm an alcoholic, I believe that anyone who knowingly poisons themselves for a buzz is, but I'm not in denial! For what that's worth. But I'm addicted to the endorphins from eating spicy food, cigarettes, getting lost, and a few more things we'll mention in an adult section or not at all. C'est la vie. A bit more cold, cold, cold wandering then back to the hill to set myself up on the third floor sofa for my last night.

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