From some old notes back in May

Walter Burns came to stay at my house for three days this week. He lounged around on my futon, petting the animals and reading a novel. I brought him coffee in a white plastic cup with a screw on lid that I recently purchased to replace my old one. It seemed to suit him better as he’s forever spilling coffee either on himself or in my car. His hands don’t work if he’s looking at them. Same goes for a lot of other things in Walter’s world.