A very special friend of mine has taken off for parts unknown. Well, not entirely unknown, just . . . a certain part of the world that is in hideous turmoil. Where going to a cafe (or school or a funeral) can get you blown up. It's not a surprise that this friend is on his way there, but it still feels like I've gotten socked in the stomach. By scut farkus. And I didn't even get to throw a snowball first.
And it doesn't help to know that people die every day in auto incidents and gang crossfire and freak accidents, and that by being in the position my friend is in, he's probably taking more care walking down the street than I do when I play on the freeway.
To make matters worse, my Boyfriend's daughter is seriously ill. UPDATE: She's doing much better, and there are reports she was being treated for blood poisoning contracted by stepping on a rusty nail. OWWWIE, but not life-threatening. Thank the gods!
Is it too early to crawl back into bed?