Floral love.

Today, I was going to write an open WTF?! letter to the health service here, in honor of the fact that by tomorrow, when (d.v.) I will finally pick up the other half of my prescription order, it will have taken me six full days to get a refill. Not an hour, like at home. Six days. Admittedly, that included a weekend. I'd made my peace with the weekend part--until this afternoon found me having to walk all over town because of good old-fashioned idiotic inefficiency. I'll say this: nothing that has happened to me here has angered me more than getting these prescriptions. Every interaction I've had with anyone over them has been ridiculous, including the fact that this afternoon, when I did finally arrive at the designated place with the designated paper, only one of them was in stock.

As I say, though, I was going to write an open letter--but then I had a lovely party to attend (wherein I learned that the president of my college here paints like Chagall), and then, only moments after I returned to my flat, I received a truly statuesque bouquet of flowers from my beloved Lexingtonian. Now I have two beautiful bouquets in my cozy little space. I haven't gotten this lucky in a long time.


I don't remember when it was that I started stacking major performances back to back the way I so often seem to do now, but it's a move I should perhaps rethink. It both wires me up and tires me out.