(no subject)
Personal angst happens at the loveliest times. So, in the past few days: my other grandmother had a stroke, my dad left my mother and I, he bought a new apartment, moved out, my mother admitted to seeing a shrink, and I rebroke my femur. I am once again bedridden and on morphine so please, do not fear, a chapter is near. And a depressed writer means better angst, so beware.