So I’m working on Granddad’s eulogy, and boy is this experience great and horrible. Great because I’m realizing, even more than I already did, just how big of an influence he was in my life. Horrible for obvious reasons. I will be unable to read it at the funeral, so my friend Robert is going to stand in for me. He knows how to read my writing (has been and will continue to be in all of my plays), so it’s the next best thing to me being up there. Except he has a beard and I only have two chin hairs that I religiously pluck before they reach full bloom. Also I have big tits and he does not. But otherwise, apples to apples.