I know it's a cheap trick to use such a title and Monday won't last long anyway, but "I don't give a fiddler's fart," to quote Frank McCourt. (Though I don't see why it is a fiddler, it means violinist, isn't it?)
This is just to say Dad is getting better, have already washed his hair and shaved, and is impatient with just about everyone and everything in the hospital. He makes lists of 10+ things every day we visit, and gets annoyed if you forget to bring in something. His eyes shine and he keeps telling funny stories about the other patients, but he is annoyed with all the medical stuff (and staff). He threatened the world with writing a manual for future patients of the Hungarian healthcare system, which is not surprising after all, but he has never planned to write anything before. He also suggested we learn to use needles and insert infusions just in case because you can wait for hours until someone comes and does it for you. Nevertheless, I'm not planning to follow his guidance in this respect, thank you very much. It's enough to see needles when it is unavoidable.
I finished McCourt's second volume today and am planning to write about it, though not now. I could also whine a bit about teaching experiences and course book orders but I don't have the energy, and these are trifles compared to the proceedings with Dad.
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