I didn’t wait until Thursday to go to the doctor. My finger is broken.
My right hand is in a cast and I must write with my left. Which is obvious, thanks to this nasty handwriting you are reading.
But, I’m still alive.
Mandy and I are writing each other. That is good. And the Oscar nominations are in. Braveheart got 10.
I have to get Vince or Curtis to come to my room and button my pants and tie my shoes for me.
It’s Valentine’s Day, but I have no special friend.
This cast means I can’t ski for a while.
But I should get the cast off before Arizona.
Time is passing.
Nothing is lasting.