My dearest Nora, wherever thou mayst roam,
Over the weekend, I had occasion to engage in the great game of golf with some of my oldest friends. The heat and humidity, even at 8 a.m. when we teed off, was almost unbearable for the first 30 minutes. However, once egos and excessive boasting came into the picture, the foul weather was the least of our concerns.
It was a brilliant match. One friend had never been golfing before and did extraordinarily well. In the end, we were all within 10 strokes of each other (but all way, waaayy over par), at least according to the scores we recorded. My cheating was kept to a minimum for a realistic idea of how I'd do in a tournament situation, for example. The score left a lot to be desired, but was better than how I've done in the past when I was cheating massively.
The lovely nurse I've had my eye on for a while has been more chatty and smiley than usual and the perpetually grumpy nurse has been a bit nicer towards me since our little breakthrough the other week. I'm rather confused as to what to do about the situation with that nurse I fancy. Loads of incredibly pleasant patients lately, but the amount of visitors they're receiving is minimal. There's an overall good vibe throughout the ward and it's the first I've experienced such universal happiness there. Even some of the doctors, normally charging round with furrowed brows and unwelcoming vibes, are a bit at ease.
Hmm. Seems as though Party Boy has procured vast quantities of alcohol and has organised a bit of a gathering. Each bottle cap that I hear hitting some surface other than the inside of the rubbish bin puts me that much more on edge. Perhaps I should join them and imbibe, myself. If only mastering my courses wasn't such a priority...
May the grace of He keep you always,
J.O. Morris
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