I was greeted by the same young woman who ran the study last year on my first visit. Let's see, what's young to a Sole Proprietor? Thirty-five? Probably. Has what I think is a Russian accent, very self contained, competent and intelligent. And attractive. Let's not forget attractive. She's alone on this deserted wing of the building up on the 5th floor. The room is very much like a large motel room, except the bathroom is down the hall and there's no clever little refrigerator that adds $5 to your bill whenever you remove a Coke.

You must press a buzzer and tell her who you are and what your business might be: "Sole Proprietor, 7:30 appointment." She checks the list and buzzes you in. The lighting in the hallways is reduced and I noticed there was a drug treatment wing of some sort through the door opposite. No wonder you have to buzz. The lady inside was alone in a long hallway with rooms on either side. There was a room full of computer equipment (the Sole Proprietor noted an interesting graphic displayed on one of the screens) as well as bedrooms, a bathroom, a receptionist's area, and doctor's offices, all dark. A little lonely. You don't want uninvited guests after midnight and, by the way, you're name is what? Peering over her glasses from a distance. Any hints of craziness or incipient lust? Foaming about the lips? No. OK. All right. This is your room.

Mr. Wuss is lying at my left with his head on my left wrist as I write this. He was a little freaked last night. Hints of packing, perhaps, making moves similar to those I make when I'm going on a trip and the Wuss was going to be on his own for a few days. The Wuss does not like this. Last night he was the hare you've just washed and can't do anything with. A tabby streaking around the room like a rocket. The Wuss is happy to have me back. Typing is difficult, but like many cat owners the ownership lies with the cat.

I watched the news as she attached the wires (It seems they're impeaching the president). She dry shaved a spot on each of my lower legs and that itched a little bit, otherwise an easy just "sit and let the lady work". The 20 or so wires attach to a little black box that you wear around your neck. When you go to bed its connected near the headboard to the computer room down the hall. You sleep, she watches the data run across the screens. A television camera sits up near the ceiling. There may be microphones to listen for snoring, I didn't ask. High tech. The test results? I still had severe apnea, better than it was, but still bad. Had I snored in the past? Like a 100 car freight. Well, I didn't snore like a 100 car freight anymore, she said. More like soft breathing. OK! There's a good news part.