the radio star likes video just fine, thanks

two relatively quiet days hanging with my dad, eating solid food and looking out the window at the snow. Typing is still all index fingers, eyes, and curse-accompanied deletions. Remembered partway through yesterday that such things as video/audio chatting exist, and have been chatting up a storm since then. (I’m “adam.e.hirsch” on Skype and “qqbazz” on iChat and just installed the a/v plugin for Google Chat; I’ll add the giant honking caveats that I am not always at my computer, don’t always have my speaking valve in, and generally don’t pick up when I’ve got guests unless I think they’re secretly bored. So I may not be ignoring you specifically if I don’t pick up.)

Hospital food so perfunctory tonight that my dad got us Italian takeout. Even my fresh palate has limits.

Video-talked with Kate tonight, since she worked today. Saw our apartment and cats for the first time since November. Wept: partly out of missing our furry miscreants, partly out of seeing the place where I last felt normal, partly because I almost certainly will never see the inside of that place again, and mostly from grieving for that lost “normal” just on the other side of the camera. I can’t tell you how much silent yelling while at Presbyterian went into simply wanting my old life back and being furious – sweaty, tooth-grinding furious – that it would be denied me. Seeing the apartment so clearly undid me, tonight, but at least I think it’s grieving I’ve gotten to.