Displacement.

My father goes under the knife tomorrow morning. I probably won’t be awake at that time, but when I wake, I will know his chest is open. They will have cut an incision more than a foot long from gullet to navel and sailed right in there to fix him.

Lucky for me, I am the Queen of Displacement Activity. To take my mind off things, I went over to Arwen’s today and washed the fir dust off all her dishes and pots and pans, and a lot of furniture as well. Then I came home and washed all the bedding, made a full roast beef dinner, and gave my landlord’s daughter E’s old cell phone. E is catching the displacement bug. He hung hooks for coats and towels, folded all his laundry and cleaned the catbox.

Good thoughts, please, people. Good thoughts, please.

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