Jo stood and fussed over me, taking my bag from the foot of the bed, and checking that I’d taken my medications. I lay down, and set my phone alarm ...or early the next morning. Jo lay down on her own bed, and rolled to face me. “Good night, Gil.”“Good night, Jo.”The next morning, we were up and packed by eight AM. We ate a light breakfast at the hotel, and we set out for home, with Jo driving. I felt much better, but I didn’t want to risk a problem by countermanding the doctor’s orders. Our home. I emptied my wastebasket myselfin the men's room or the office kitchen."You must have pissed someone off pretty good," Pete Vick, the accountssupervisor said one morning, laughed as he sipped coffee and watched mestuff yesterday's discarded paperwork in the copy room paper recyclingbin.The cleaning girl's neglect of my office continued.Eventually, my supervisor, Rita Harris saw me one too many mornings inthe hallway with my full wastebasket. She didn't seem amused. She toldme to call office. More

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