Then he dozed off on the couch while watching a home renovation show on HGTV. I wanted to avoid anything too stressful, such as the news or any Law & Order reruns that might remind him of his arrest, and of course the election and how horrible he looks without his mustache. He chose a show where a couple is given a choice of either “loving” their newly renovated home, or “listing” it for sale and buying another. He couldn’t stay awake long enough to find out what decision they made (they listed it). When I was sure he was really asleep, I put a blanket over him (given to me as a birthday present by the Queen of Denmark), which only acted as a magnet for Fat Louie to jump back on top of him and curl up on his chest . . . but even that extra twenty pounds didn’t wake him up. Maybe his crying jag (or the cheesy bread) had been cathartic. I just texted a photo of the two of them (Dad and cat) to Michael, along with this message: Hi, hope you’re having fun telling the doctors about your robot legs.
