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| "it's a mandolin" 😠|
update: Ears weathered it better than I did. he's seen what anything else but "okay" gets you, so when they told him he said "okay" and smiled. then he decided maybe it's because he reads all the time, so he went to 'crafts time' and made me a kindergarten ornament👆 ironically then he took up sudoku in the rec room. when the (good) social worker came to tell him yesterday, he said "her hair was pulled back in a ponytail so tight it's a wonder she could blink," and seemed angry for him and he felt bad for her (as did I, so I just cried quietly and told her it wasn't her fault and hung up).
one person told him maybe Friday, another person told him at least another week, the hall monitor at lunch says he saw discharge papers with Bru's name on today's pile. we don't clock anything as true at all. he says the best approach to not losing it is counting on 6 weeks, so any shorter is gravy. at 6 weels, though, he will have lost his job / insurance. he said the other patients talk about that too, medicaid patients get released fast even if they're nut af, and the insured don't get out until their insurance won't pay anymore or they lose coverage. he shrugs, "I am getting really good at sudoku."
that's good. best he keep his spirits up. I can carry the hate for both of us. they hassled me for my work clothes today, the inmate visit sticker doesn't like to stay on suit jackets might get covered by the lapel blabla, as if they don't me there every fucking day. I stuck it my chest without a word.
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| hurt like duct tape coming off |
