As I waited with my boyfriend, Corey, in the Emergency Room loading dock, nurses, aides, cleaning people and, I think, some illegal immigrants would rush through. The energy was frenetic. It was like someone spliced together all the link and filler scenes from a TV medical drama, and edited out the entertaining parts where you find out the doctor’s sleeping with the wife of the man who runs the hospital who is an alcoholic/pill addict and, even more tragic, votes Republican.

We learned that Corey had appendicitis. They wanted to perform surgery that night. Our plans to play poker and go dancing would, in all likelihood, have to be cancelled.

A cute picture of my boyfriend, Corey

Corey is a self-professed control-freak, and this would reveal itself in many ways. He would grill anyone who entered our room with the same battery of questions, to which he would receive, more or less, the same answers. I didn’t ask why, but I secretly theorized that he was waiting for one of them to “slip up” and say something like, “Well, you may be feeling discomfort because your uterus is over-extended,” to which Corey could then raise his pointed finger and exclaim, “Ah, ha! Got you! I’m a boy and I don’t have a uterus! Because of my hysterectomy last year.”

My boyfriend won’t find that joke funny, but he’s all cripple from surgery, so I’m safe.

I’m sorry.

I haven’t written to you in ages, I know. It’s awful of me, but don’t take it personally – I have a really good excuse, and it has the added bonus of being true.

Saturday began normally enough. I woke up about and hour before my alarm went off, percolated some java, weaned my cat off my calf muscles and onto a bowl of kibble, shaved, brushed, exercised and watched the abortion episodes of “Maude”. Nothing remarkable.

Looking natural never looked so unnatural: Bea Arthur greeting you as Maude.

I left home to walk to Amoeba Music Hollywood fifteen minutes earlier than necessary; again, totally normal – I am chronically early to everything.

I was greeted at the door by a big hug from Karen and carefully made my way back to the jazz / classical / soundtracks / New Orleans / gospel / comedy / new age / blues room amidst a maze of potential accidents as created by our early morning cleaning staff.