One of my lifelong facial tics, exacerbated when frustrated or perplexed, was working quadruple-time last week at the Baltimore County hospital where I receive a bi-monthly phlebotomy for a peculiar, but manageable, blood condition. I get on well with the nurses who perform the procedure, a laugh here and there, family discussions, the weather, all light banter. But this time I was enmeshed in a ball of confusion when I tossed off a remark about the recent election. “Crazy, wasn’t it?” I tossed off, and she instantly turned sour. Читать дальше...