7 up, 7 down

I like the view from the 7th floor of Georgetown University Hospital. Across Reservoir Road, a pair of retrievers is trampling merry dog prints all over the snow in the middle of the University practice field, while their person runs laps on the track. Not far beyond, the highest tower of the National Cathedral is poking its four spires above a row of old, and therefore well-built houses. If we were across the hall we'd be looking at the Washington Monument obelisk.

Behind me, Jeff is being unwired from an EKG machine. Soon I am summoned to think of two events--one within the last week, and one within the last month, which Jeff will be asked to recall. I think of our flight to Colorado 3 weeks ago, and the snowfall over the weekend, providing useful details to the extent that my sometimes foggy memory permits.

I hope that we'll have time for lunch. Even a Chipotle burrito. A last-minute change in routine (the usual ride going home sick) means we'll be hightailing it from D.C. to Baltimore to retrieve a couple of schoolboys this afternoon. I've brought snacks, and we could avail ourselves of the bag lunches on offer to clinical research participants, but they aren't my favorite, and seasoned rice and black beans always appeal.

Funny thing--as we were headed toward the stairwell from our parking space in the catacomb-like L7 level of the underground garage (that's level negative 7,) a healthy looking man said "Elevator's broken. But the east-side one is working." And he took off across the long, gloomy tomb of a garage to the far stairwell. People really don't use stairs, do they? I thought, as Jeff and I walked up the stairs.