I’m tempted to erase yesterday’s entry altogether. Today is beautiful. Clear blue skies with puffy white cartoon clouds float above us. A steady wind blows from the north. From the second floor balcony of my stunning mansion, Lake Michigan looks crisp and efficient. Its waves break consistently at the same angle over and over and over again. The lake is like a professional tennis player delivering flawless forehand shots from the baseline, each one the same, one after the other, never missing, never committing an unforced error.
Dr. Cohen brought me flowers this morning. I saw four acupuncture patients, all of whom were charming and grateful and paid me in useful cash. Beefcake showed up at Omaha Steak looking like a total wreck. I didn’t get too close, but he appeared to have a hangover and an ugly black eye. He couldn’t have looked less mayoral if he tried.
I don’t know why I was concerned for my sanity yesterday. Even healthy women have moments that are less than stellar.
Jill Riddell is a writer in Chicago. She teaches at the School of the Art Institute and has a weakness for nature, magic, and pennies abandoned in sidewalk cracks.