I was about to get an unexpected lesson in “Chronic Conditions” of another sort: The Human Spirit.
The other evening my husband and I cozied up in our “movie” chairs, blankets thrown across our laps. My dog was next to me, eyeing the popcorn bowl. If a single fluffy kernel fell from my hands, it disappeared before my fingers could reach for it. I’d look at his shaggy face, suspiciously then. He knew he was wrong, he’d hide in the den.