I just finished re-reading Rabbit, Run for my book club, and I’m so thoroughly depressed I want to gouge my eyes out. The last time I read it I was in high school; I remembered the plot outlines, and the dismal portrait of Reading, PA, but I had forgotten what a kick in the gut the ending was. I had taken a vacation day today and there I was, floating in my kayak, the air soft, the trees a riot of color all around….and me with my book in my hand feeling like the world was coming to an end. At least Rabbit, Run is GOOD, though. I stil haven’t forgiven Updike for The Witches of Eastwick.

*

I can’t bear those Cymbalta commercials with the depressed people staring into space, but I especially hate the vignettes where a dog is moping next to his oblivious owner. People, stay on your meds and PET YOUR DOG, would you? It’ll make you both feel better.

*

Aitch got hold of an Epipen tonight and stabbed himself through the palm with its half-inch-long needle. I guess the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree. This resulted in our second call to the doctor’s office today. (The pre-school informed us that Minor was missing his required MMR vaccine, so we had to investigate; it turns out he did have the vaccine, but the computer that generated his immunization record “randomly omitted” the MMR record; “it does that sometimes.”) Anyway, the nurse practitioner who answered the phone advised me to call Poison Control. “The number is…” she began. “No need,” I said; I have had them on speed dial since the day Aitch ate a thermometer, I couldn’t find the number, and I called 911 to get it from them, only to met by the aural equivalent of a blank stare, which caused me to swear and hang up the phone, which led to a police officer’s visit to our house. Do you know if you hang up on 911, someone has to come out to check if you’re okay?

Poison Control advised us that the dose of epinephrine was probably harmless, and as long as the circulation in his hand isn’t damaged, he’ll be fine. No word on what kind of superpower might result when the adrenaline rush activates the mercury residue in his bloodstream. I hope it’s something practical, like the ability to foresee consequences of reckless acts as far as thirty seconds into the future.