It is ten days before the 2024 election.
So I am right now alternating between biting my cuticles and sipping a gin martini.
I'm reading Virginia Woolf out in the backyard.
The neighbor is having roof shingles replaced.
Banging. Banging...BANGING!
It is 3:34 p.m.
Sunny.
Windy.
Carle Place.
Long Island.
New York.
I want to write like Ms. Woolf.
I cannot.
No one can.
Except our now dead Virginia.
The martini (stirred with olives)
is delicious.
Suddenly, wind drives Mr. Softee music
into my yard.
Into the yard I have designed for peace.
And now - it swirls into my head.
Can a Dead End street be any more conducive to a
water-boarding song? I think not.
But wait - When? I ask myself, did I first encounter Virginia Woolf?
Oh, I remember.
It was in the car after dropping off the grandchildren
to school one early morning.
I had a YouTube link with a female narrator
reading TO THE LIGHTHOUSE over the car speaker system.
I became hooked immediately, both
to the story and the narrator's English accent.
(read by Ruth Wilson of Penguin Audiobooks)
Wait, why am I telling you this?
For God's sake, dear friends -
it is ten days before the election.
I must get a grip.
Another sip perhaps.
Another sip is essential.
What would your mother say about biting your cuticles?
She might say, "stop, it'll be all right."*
Absolutely love this! You nailed it.
Make that a double.
Love everything about this. Yes. Olives. Mrs. Dalloway.