but in keeping with my mood for the last few days:

HOME is where the HURT is

--seen in the bathroom at Wal-Mart, Cortez, CO.

My aunt died this morning. Not that I think anyone particularly cares (I mean, it's not like you knew her, how worked up can you get?), but I hate to leave a story at a cliffhanger, so I thought I'd update. It's been less than a week since they diagnosed her with a nice rare cancer that had doctors just about wetting themselves for a chance to see it; only a couple of weeks since she went in for a biopsy on a mass in her lung that probably wasn't cancer at all, since it didn't look like cancer or act like cancer; probably only a couple months since her breathing started to get bad enough for the doctors to start caring. They say she didn't suffer at the end (it only looked like it because her body was trying so hard to catch a breath) but don't they tell that to everyone's survivors? I mean, does a doctor ever come right out and say, "Oh, geez, your loved one died hard. I've never seen anyone in so much agony. I'd have pulled out a gun and ended the misery, but guns aren't allowed in the hospital. Terribly sorry."