June 25th 1992
I certainly miss being able to talk face to face with Frasier. I find myself calling him more and more. There we were in Italy, letting our sibling rivalry get the better of us and were black balled from one of the finer wineries of Sicily and then completely embarrassed ourselves under the dinner table at the Planeta Winery. Overall, I would say that that has been our most successful trip together.
I felt so bad for a patient at work. I was working with someone with a fear of abandonment, of all things, when my secretary patched through an emergency call from Maris. It appears she was depressed with our recent purchase of draperies and decided to take some time to pamper herself by pouring herself a glass of wine and doing her nails. Maris never does her nails. She always has them done, so this decision was probably made after her partake with the grape. You see, at her body weight, it doesn't take much alcohol before her judgment is out the window. Maris was frantic when she called. It appears that she had fallen asleep while waiting for her nails to dry and her toenails dried into the shag rug. The pour thing couldn't muster the strength to set herself free. I told her I was in a session and asked that she seek help from the servants, however, no one came when she called. She knew they were in the house. She could hear them snickering. I was appalled to have to abandon my fear of abandonment patient to go home to free Maris.