A long time ago, in a land far far away (Palo Alto) I had a really psycho girlfriend [Is there any other kind? - Ed]... [Yes! - James]
"How psycho?" You say... as you shift a little forward in your chair...
Well, she used to get really really really drunk, really often, and throw tantrums where she threw all the stuff out of her purse and smashed it, hit herself, me, pulled her hair out, and screamed at cops that they were "F&^%ing Douchebags" [She had a point there, at least in Palo Alto...]
I never knew what to do because I was a silly little country boy and didn't realize that it was all a show, so I would call my boss, and his wife, in a state, and they would drive from Mountain View, at 3 in the morning, pick her up, take her back to their place, and have her spend the night. They did this multiple times, and were always amaaaaazing about it.
They also had a big-picture plan for me, and saw to it that I learned what was going on, without ever pushing me. For that I am the most grateful. They were downright parental, with that and a lot of other stuff.
In no small way I have them to thank for the emotional development that has made the paragon of maturity who stands before you today... *cough*.
Cancer sucks, yeah? Yeah.
So, Mental Health Day. I guess what I'm really saying is that I skipped yoga today, will probably skip my run, and I just ate a big salad with bacon and avocado.
If that's not a Mental Health Day then I'm Boutros Boutros-Ghali.
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