I'm on hour 28 more or less at the hospice center. I got in Monday night, stopped by for a while, had dinner and went home and collapsed. Yesterday I dropped mom off at work about a mile away from this place, then picked her up later and brought her back. I've also been out for several meals. But we're basically snowed in, so we slept here last night. I had the third-most comfortable recliner in the room, if you count the hospital bed itself; I estimate that it was about the fifth-most uncomfortable recliner in the world for sleeping, but that could be off a little in either direction. So I'm running on not a lot of sleep and am a bit loopy.

This place is called Donnell House. Unfortunately that seems to be (dun-ELL) rather than (DONN-nul), but I still imagine Dylan McDermott walking in at any time and saying emphatically "But is it possible?" The facility has eight patient rooms and plenty of side rooms where visiting family can unwind. They also have some bookshelves that are almost entirely filled with books on death, grieving, and/or Jesus. I have instead opted for my own copy of Running With Scissors and my character fitness application for the California bar exam, a slightly less depressing option.

Dad is doped up but stable, and since there are plenty of people here and more coming, I'll be headed back to school as soon as the weather breaks or at least bends. I should be on the road tomorrow morning, and hopefully I won't end up off the road somewhere on the Ohio Turnpike. Then I get to come back next weekend for a whole lot more of the same--hopefully minus the freezing rain followed by half a foot of snow.

No weigh-in this week for obvious reasons, and for the less-obvious reason that accessible food at the moment consists of gas station hot dogs, the Eat 'n' Park breakfast buffet, a Whitman sampler someone brought in, and the Texas Roadhouse.