sleep when he did. We couldn’t afford it, of course, but it would have been so much better that way. Don’t you think?

JS: Like in the Sleeping Beauty.

MS: I guess. Don’t you think it was nice of the witch to put the whole castle to sleep so no one suffered through the waiting? Or aged? Or despaired.

JS: I thought it was fairies who cast the spell.

MS: A witch by any other name.

Are you sure I can’t interest you in some refreshment? A cup of tea? One cookie?

JS: I thought you were a coffee drinker?

MS: Not so much anymore.

The sanatarium kitchen was just upgraded -- so much of the therapy is food related. We get the most wonderful almond crescents. Do you like almonds?

JS: All right, sure. No cookies, but a cup of tea would be nice.

MS: Are we done here?

JS: I’m ready to stop. Thanks for being so helpful.

MS: Do you like chamomile? It’s grown right on the property. Of course, it’s a sleepy-time tea. Maybe you think it’s too early in the day.

JS: Whatever you’re having.

MS: Oh, I’m not eating. I eat to schedule. Only maybe just another candy, if Dr. Gravem agrees. She can be pretty sticky about them sometimes.

Did you know there was a brief fad in the nineteenth century for edible psychiatry? The eat and rest cure. Depressed women, confined to their beds and stuffed every two hours. There is nothing new under sun. Or moon.

Oh good, here’s your tea already. Don’t wait to drink it. It comes pre-cooled. Isn’t it good?