Strange Bedfellows.

Time to go and get a few hours sleep before I face tomorrow. It’s a tense time, but an interesting thought occurred to me:

If ever I were required to tell Mel that I have a terminal illness, she would feel sorry for herself. If I were to tell her that I have a serious illness but they intend to cure me with some hideous procedure, she would feel sorry for me.

How fascinating that logic can have such an ironic edge.