This one is sort of my fault: I've been strangely indecisive all day. About really, embarrassingly dumb things, like which of the ten (!) books on my coffee table I should read first (this is not even getting into the Anastasia Krupnik series, which I have a burning desire to reread after meeting Lois Lowry next week. Sorry for the namedropping but LOIS LOWRY!) or what to wear, or...even more ridiculous things ("Would you like lemon or lime in your seltzer?" "Oh, gosh, I don't know! Ummm...hmm." I am a joy to be around), so of course when I sat down to watch General Hospital, I wasn't sure what kind of show I was really in the mood for (I mean, I am always in the mood for a GOOD show, but that seemed too much to hope for).
General Hospital, in all of its unfocused glory, was all too willing to offer me as many alternatives as possible in the space of a single hour.
GENERAL HOSPITAL: Are you in the mood for something SAD?
MALLORY: Um...maybe. I could use a good cry.
GENERAL HOSPITAL: All right. Here it is: Sabrina and Patrick's son is dying.
GENERAL HOSPITAL: I know.
GENERAL HOSPITAL: Do you need me to grab you tissues? I'll grab you tissues. You're crying every tear in the world, right? Sad.
MALLORY: Yes, it's sad, because who isn't sad about dead babies, but REALLY? What was the point of this entire story? Why could you not have just hidden Teresa Castillo behind plants and purses for the duration of her pregnancy which, the more I think about it, would have been hilarious?! But no, you needed to make her pregnant, have her lie about the paternity for like eighteen seconds, then disappear for months and then all of a sudden go into premature labor just to see her child die? What kind of a story is that?!
GENERAL HOSPITAL: You're angry when you're sad.