Yesterday I didn’t explain the connection between birthdays and hangnails. I was starting to analyze the euphoria engendered by a birthday and the lessened angst of minor annoyances. So first I had to explain Birthday Parade and its attendant magic. Then I forgot to explain how it tied in with hangnails. I guess I was eight or nine wen I figured out that a (slighty) painful thing like a hangnail was negligible in light of the good feeling surrounding one with a birthday.
Everything is relative.
Matt’s trouble is bigger than a hangnail but life goes on, I go on, and so does Matt. He’s hanging on, through boredom and a nagging wonder as to what’s to become of him. His favourite line now is “I’m a trouper”, and he is. They’re setting up exercise programs for him, and there are tests and interviews and games and a few visitors and in ten days he’ll get a lighter cast but he still won’t be able to put his foot down for four or five weeks, followed by rehab.
He broke his ankle on his birthday That’s bigger than a hangnail.
But he’s a trouper.