It’s twenty-one minutes after seven… and counting. I come in on Doris Day singing “Que Sera, Sera,” and I try to remember what time it was and what song was playing when I first sat down on the bed and began looking at the red barn in that little painting on the wall. No. Sorry, but I don’t remember the song or the time, but I do know it wasn’t as long as last time. I’ve been known to spend hours upon hours, sometimes all...