Once again, a narrow escape from the hospital. Twice in three weeks. This had better not become a habit for me. Creativity doesn’t seem to root well in a hospital.
For half the time, my next-room neighbor was a chained felon, complete with 24-hour armed guards. I don’t have the slightest idea of what he was in for (illness or incarceration), but I’m hopefully assuming he was some kind of mastermind of diamond thievery or perhaps a mafioso of elegant and brutal repute. Or perhaps he was just an incompetent shoplifter.
At any rate, we’ll never know.