It's been a good birthday, even though I had a meltdown at lunch. I'm probably not ready to talk about the meltdown yet, but it involves teeth (not mine) and a trailer court for over-55's at Princeton by the Sea.
Around 3:00 I gave it up and went to bed. At 5:00 Tom opened the bedroom door. There I was under the comforter gripping the New Yorker which he'd pulled out of a recycling bin.
"It's your birthday! What are you doing?"
"Reading about mental illness. There's this fascinating article about a woman in her 50's named Linda who doesn't even have a clue that she mentally ill! ... uh ... Oh. Never mind."
After a walk on the beach, a lovely salmon sandwich with corn on the cob, and a chance encounter with Jonathan Franzen, I'm on top of the world again. This article–Liking Is for Cowards. Go for What Hurts–is my birthday present to you.
