In some ways, it was the perfect day. I slept a good, hard sleep on the purple Thai mat spread across the hardwood floor in the common room. Overcast morning shed its bright whiteness through the window like a pale neon lightbulb. At the hospital, three patients agreed, for a record number in one day. The dapper old masseur, the “don’t take nuffin’” borderline homeless woman, and tough Mrs. Anthony with the squinty eyes who used to hide corn liquor in the graveyards for her parents and ain’t scared of anything.
Nearly finished the Wednesday NYTimes crossword (dedicated to Jackie Onassis Kennedy) and downed a latte for pump and power. Armed with my caffeinated good mood, I scoured the apartment and prepped for the party. Received calls from everyone dear, far and near. And the guests came. And kept coming. Over 2 dozen people showed!
I am now officially closer to 50 than birth.