Weepy Violets and Dry Eyes

There is one, lone purple bud on my African Violet plant that I discovered this morning. It hasn't bloomed in years, and I'm not really sure what prompted it to do so now. I recently moved it from the kitchen to the living room where it gets the same amount of sun, maybe even a bit less. I also recently overwatered it. For three days Zach complained of wiping water off the coffee table after his books or newspapers inevitably got saturated in it. I did feed it a few times last month. Who knows. It was a pleasant surprise, though, as I discovered it after hanging up from an hour-long phone "conversation" with Jennifer from my health insurance company. I was calling about two claims, one from last August and one from March 2004. We got absolutely nothing resolved. Basically I have to resubmit the claims, because they, conveniently, have no record of either of them. I felt like crying. It's funny that I felt like crying over unprocessed claims and not the recently (yet not uncommon) strained relationship with my mom. Maybe the tears were disguised for my mom. I've got nothing else tonight. My eyes and my fingers are dry.