Some people are just cowards, I tell my last client of the night. And it feels good—like a release. Like pounding a beer, crushing the can to my head, then slamming it to the ground with a “Huzzah!” Sometimes the stories I hear—the dehumanizing ones, the valueless ones—hit me hard, right between the eyes. And I don’t want their ugliness to take root in me, so I slice it with my fruit ninja sword and march forward.
Today I downed three cinnamon rolls. Three yesterday. Who knows how many tomorrow? Making a casserole dish the size of Egypt, full of them, was perhaps a bad idea. Or maybe a good one? My not-yet-diabetic self tried to balance the scales with a long run and a fast, hoping to convert those sugars into energy. But is that even how it works? Or do the sugars jam up my insulin, exhaust my pancreas, and send my whole system bonkers—like a pinball machine I can’t control?
Sigh. Dang cinnamon rolls. One only tomorrow—that’s my final answer.
I finished my book tonight, which always feels like ending a relationship. How long do I wait before I get back out there again? Sure, I’ll scroll through my Goodreads “to-read” pile, the suitors I’ve saved for future single-me. But usually I pass them by, reaching instead for something exotic and fresh, something from an island I’ve never heard of—so I can sail away at sunset.
Meanwhile, Firefly is on. Dave’s in the middle of episode one, and I’m half in, half out. It’s rated 8.9 on IMDb, and I’ve technically made it through the pilot before. Instead of watching, I pulled up a Cliff Notes version: there was a war, a jaded guy, he buys a spaceship, gathers a ragtag crew, and a few passengers to scrape together some money. Cult classic. Probably my thing—if I can find the right thread to grab onto. Ok, so I had Dave pause and orient me. The Alliance, a powerful government, took over their planets. No bueno. I think I’m intrigued. What do they do about it?
Alright. I’m jumping in two feet now.
Love,
Jaclynn
Going On 40 