Ahem.

Today's session was marked by the following revelations:

1. Sometimes it pays to give one's total attention to where one is walking so that one (say, Eliz. S.) doesn't walk to Dr. Fink's old office, now ihabited by someone not nearly so keen.
2. Eliz. S. is pleased to see the return of a working clock across the room from the patient in Dr. Fink's office. The timepiece allows her to hew her comments and pathetic blather to the allotted time of 45 minutes.
3. When Dr. Fink lifts his arm in a strange horizontal way, he is experiencing shoulder pain from some kind of injury or sciatica or whatever, and Eliz. S. feels sorry for him and wishes to give him an Advil.
4. When Eliz. S. tells Dr. Fink a particularly scandalous bit of personal gossip, he is as catty as a schoolgirl on lemon pops, as deliciously shocked and shocking as one would want one's friends to be, particularly when one doesn't really have a lot of friends other than her shrink.
5. When happenstance causes Eliz. S. and Dr. Fink to find themselves going down in the elevator together, it is the only time Eliz. S. does not feel terrified to be riding in a metal box. Because, after all, if the box got stuck, one's shrink would be there to talk one through it. Better than pills, bless their bitter hearts.