Right now, I’m sitting in my window sill watching the first snow of the season cascade down from the sky. It’s gathering on the steps of my fire escape, forming little white landscapes with peaks and valleys big enough only for Whos and Grinches, and I’m as content as I’ve ever been. My dog is …
Thankfully, onward.
The “self” looking back at me said, “Good morning. Short work week this week, you can make it. Coffee soon. Put a bunch of stuff in your hair to hold it down since it’s windy. Maybe pick up some sweet gum at Duane Reade. Also, you failed at everything this year.”
