I'm getting ready to go somewhere. I'm doing up the dishes, taking many pills, and hoping I took the right ones and not too many. Muffin Cat has swallowed a clock and is ticking like captain Hook's crocodile. Things are messy and not quite right, out of sync. I am looking at an old photo album of my mother that I've never seen before. There are lot of pictures. Her father looks like Clyde, my father's stepdad, and a little like Jared. They had bought swampland. There's lots of muddy water covering bike paths. One photo is of my mother and Clyde standing neck deep in one mud hole. Lots of leather, and a sense of money that got lost later. My mother's graduation picture. She says, "See, Jackie Gleason, a fine poet and the world's worst comedian and look what he got famous for, how ironic."