Winter lace, the thirteenth floor, and the luthier's wife

In spite of car troubles - Laurent thinks the car is mad at me for having made it work too much - I am done with radiation.

I climbed up and then walked down the thirteen floors (though they label it 11, then 14, of course...) of the Yawkey Building of Dana Farber, thinking, "Maybe I am done... Who knows?"

Now I'm cleaning up my room, preparing painting surfaces, and planning on taking Emile with me to do a little upkeep on my fiddle, at my favorite luthier's store.

The fiddle man's wife is dying of breast cancer. The joy of music hand in hand with the "emperor of maladies"...