We received this theatrical letter three days ago from a reader’s Blackberry device:
I wanted to tell you that this morning I am praying words of thanks for In/Words.
The scene: a dingy “medical” clinic I thought might actually be a front for organ harvesting in Ottawa’s Carlington neighborhood.
I had come to find out whether I’ll have to give up cheese.
What I thought would be a simple blood test turned into 2.5 hrs of blood tests every half hour, on the half hour.
I was handed a stack of ” In Touch” and “OK” magazines for the long periods of waiting in beige in between. There aren’t even any models in those effing things! Just bloated celebrities wearing suspect shades.
So this morning I am praising my Creator that I had a (mostly) unread issue of In/Words in my backpack when I arrived at the scene of my certain demise.