Which Reminds Me

I vaguely remember my sister's roommates in California, Linda Harrington and Jill Anderson, joking about the idea of being Baker Acted, as if any expression not meeting their standard of Pollyanna-positive is regarded as suicidal and thus one can never say anything negative in any sense of the word without fear of being reported to the authorities. You can never admit you are depressed or sad to that kind of person without fear of repercussion. Thus it is better not to ever speak to them and hear Jill Anderson telling all of those off-color stories because someone might forget that it was actually Jill who was saying that, not me. There is no reason to expect a creepy Anderson to be able to avoid lying to cover their own butt or to imagine that anyone of good sense lives in Houston, where all of the birds of obnoxious feather seemingly flock together. I don't see anything good ever coming out of Houston, just that hideous Sue Watkins, yet another worthless counselor to me. Sue was Jill Anderson's older sister. Don't these people know anything?