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2002-05-01 | 1:35 p.m.

Just got a sweet note from Stephen. Here's how it begins.

So it seems like you're back from the thing, the thing, the thing thing thing, and I'm dying to talk to you. So I wish you'd help me do that.

Otherwise, in a copy editor moment, I want to point out that I did not call you yesterday to tell you to go to a couples counselor. I called you yesterday because I love you and I'm concerned about you. And as part of that concern, I definitely think you should go to couples counseling. So I'd rewrite the sentence, "Stephen called today and told me I should go to a couples counselor."

Fair enough. He goes on:

I'm glad Mike said you could come to her, which I kind of expected she would say because she's that kind of person.

He's right. I am so lucky to have good friends in my life. Mike was here on Friday night with her little family. They are so much fun to be around. At one point, she got a little emotional, and said, "I can't believe I'm watching our kids play together." I don't think of her as an overly sentimental person. It was just a moment that moved her.

Dr. Wheat asked me twice if I am a "highly sensitive person." I got a little cagey and said, "Why? Are you about to criticize me?" I'm sensitive, yes, but "highly" sensitive? I don't think so. What is that, I wondered, some sort of code for "idiot"? I cry too easily, it's true, but I don't think of myself as unable to withstand a rough wind now and again.

I wish I could have all my friends together in one room, talking, laughing, and eating Thai food. And not because it's my funeral.

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