I'm doing good today. Just fine. I don't know if I've told you this, but last week about the time the new girl, Angela started, they moved me into the conference room. My things are spread out atop a medium-sized cherry conference table and to my right is a giant picture window filling the entire wall with a view of sunny North Texas. The water towers in every town from here to Dentonfrisco crop up like little mushrooms, and yesterday I had a day dream of an enormous, scaly, fire-breathing, dragon playing hopscotch on their tops. Lewisville was burning as he ate fistfulls of people out of the top of the Vista Ridge shopping mall like potato chips.

Closest to me is a stretching, angular, cement canal surrounded by a green lawn shaved into nice straight lines. Just beyond this is a divided street that jets out from behind the conference room corner and then dead ends in the lawn, where at least 4 or 5 cars make a wrong turn every day. When they finally notice the street has run out and the median breaks, they make a u-turn and drive back away from view. One is turning around right now- a black PT Cruiser, or a hearse (it's hard to tell from way up here in my big marble box.) Watching this happen over and over again these last two weeks had made me feel melancholy, but today it seems funny. I don't know what this says, if anything about the medicine working.

I love you, My Bu.