spherical

“I was in the bath the other day,” I told my dietitian today, “imagining myself working at Wal-Mart. And none of the other employees could get along with me because I’m so bitter. Because the kids around me don’t get it—” You’d think I’d be bitter about my education or experience. Nope, I’m bitter because I can’t afford to keep dragging around my grandfather clock and my great-grandmother’s piano. I was stewing in the tub, so frustrated I bet I could’ve made the water around me boil. Imagine, at my big age, giving up all the things I’ve accumulated; imagine me getting onto Facebook Marketplace trying to give away my great-grandmother’s piano. Imagine trying to explain why I’m like this to my way-younger coworkers. “And then I thought to myself—but it felt as if it’d come from outside me,” I told my dietitian, “but this voice inside me said, ‘Can you not just be grateful??’ And then I was like, yyyyeeeaaaahhhh okay.” We both laughed. “And I’m really grateful for this shift in voice,” I…

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