I had to cut to the chase. There was no beating around the bush. No soft sell. I texted my wife:
“The end may be near for Sybil.”
My wife sensed the gravity of the situation and texted me back the only thing that you really can in such a dire family moment: a frowny face emoticon.
It was one of those moments where life goes into slow-mo.
I was outside by the pool, partaking in one of my evening cleaning sessions. I find evening the best time to clean the pool, as I have yet to have anyone do a surprise cannonball at 11:00 at night.
I’ve got no issues with doorknobs. Big fan of ‘em, in fact. They are fantastic inventions that serve a great function in society, from privacy issues to security issues to little brother issues. (That last one is particularly relevant to one resident in my house.)