Dad died on Monday morning. My brother and I have been dealing all the initial bureaucracy that we need to get done before the week's up. Moving his belongings to storage. That kind of stuff. In the midst of all the up-and-down emotions surrounding death
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(I happen to be sitting here poking at my Ovid, that's all.)
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Nietzche! Did I spell that right? No! Neitzche! No, wait...
Nietzsche. There we are. "That which does not kill you makes you stronger." Yeah, good old Friedrich.
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I meant to ask, how's the sprout doing in all this?
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