I haven’t been sleeping.
I’ve been away from Los Angeles for a week and a half now.
Five days ago my eye doctor told me I had astigmatism. You should have been wearing glasses for fifteen years, he said, before berating me for the amount of eyeliner I used. I picked out my first pair of glasses later that day while my mom had her nails done. I wear them for fifteen minutes at a time. The world doesn’t seem real through them. They’re like a portal to another, slightly clearer place. I’m getting used to turning my head from side to side and feeling the slightest bit nauseous.
Before that, I took a train from Vermont to Connecticut, editing photos of my newest niece, Alma Lucille, for the better part of five hours.
Early this morning I woke up from a dream that the zombie apocalypse had started. I stole a car and drove somewhere foggy.
Today I will meet my agent and my new editor at HarperCollins. New York is cloudy and grey and just how I remember it.
I shop for socks on Amazon because my feet are cold. My sister-in-law’s cat rubs her face on my computer screen. She doesn’t care how many times I push her away. Last night she slept between my legs. She’s getting older and has had a sudden change of heart regarding how much human interactions she likes.
The first time I met my agent was over two years ago. It was the day after my brother and sister-in-law’s wedding. It was raining. I wore a brand new Kelly green dress (dry clean only) and dropped a hunk of cream cheese on the front right before I had to leave.
This morning I eat a bagel warily and hope it doesn’t rain.