She patted me on the head. There are times when I suspect that the reason our family has this chronic problem with conceptions of time is that my sister and I were, in fact, born in a temporal flux of some sort; she was meant to be the older sister, just as I was meant to be the younger sister, and in our typical Hirata fashion we managed to schedule it all wrong. “That’s nice. Go get your nails done while I wait for so-and-so to get back.”

A three hundred mile car ride with a man who sings the Smurf song is no laughing matter.

“To shut down I do ‘Start’?” she said, puzzled.

“No, see, it’s a menu item that you get when you click start.”

“Why is it ‘start’? What does it start?”

Good question. Any answers, Bill?

“You wore what?”

My genes have made me the designated driver.

For eternity.

I’m catching up, but slowly. My body’s on April 1st, but my mind is on last Wednesday, for no particular reason that I can fathom. In today’s Yuhri news: the interview, and what came afterwards, and the first anniversary.