I wish I could start a hostel for all of my sad friends. They could live in my room and my basement, We'd eat interesting soups with fancy pants grilled cheese sandwiches. We could have craft nights, make cards. I could teach them to knit. We would play lots and lots of acoustic guitar. Carissa's Wierd, Fionn Regan, Joni Mitchell, James Taylor. We would hug for days at a time. Everyone would slowly and quietly get well.

I realized this weekend as I was hashing out my plan to a couple of different people that not everyone wants my help. Some people would rather deal with their sadness the way that they know how, not my way. None of them would like Joni Mitchell as much as me, and hugging for that long would exhaust your arms.

"I just need to be told that you don't want my help," I said, "and I'll stop trying."
"I don't want your help."

It's probably just as well. My house's water/sewer/garbage bill is insanely high as it is.