Aaargh

Just heard from my mother--my dad's back in the hospital with what they think might be bronchitis. Though they did an echocardiogram so my mom thinks they might be worried about his valve replacement. I spoke to him after I got off the phone with her--he sounds good and is hoping he gets out tomorrow afternoon (we'll see, but I have my doubts).

When I heard him ask the nurse to bring him a dry Gibson on the rocks, I relaxed a little.

Every time this happens though, it reminds me to let the little things go. Earlier I was fuming about my commute in--we had been on time all the way to D.C. but were stopped outside of Union Station for 20 minutes while they cleared the platform we were supposed to detrain on to. Even more frustrating was that I can see the campus where I work from the train (well, the bell tower). But really, who cares if I'm a half hour late to work?