The day started off with great promise. The second day of a rare San Francisco heat wave, the nine miles of my adventurous walk yesterday stored in the muscles and strong morning meditation to breathe myself into the day. Two superb games of morning solitaire and me looking forward to my weekly shopping. But first a quick stop in e-mail and Facebook.
Bad idea. Three things in Facebook that threw me into the pit of despair—not events so much as voters’ reactions to events—and here I was again, the distance between heaven and hell as nearby as a single click on the screen. While in Trader Joes, I reached for three bottles of wine and had an impulse to throw them to the ground and scream in rage with the blood red liquid and broken glass at my feet. Luckily, I resisted.
Came back home to unpack the groceries and what with the heat, the mint chocolate chip ice cream had melted down to the perfect consistency. So at 9:30 in the morning, I opened it up and stuck in a spoon. One bite. Two. Three. And a few more. I needed this.
And it helped. I’m pushing the restart button in my mind and trying to start the day again.
And if things start going south, well, there’s always the ice cream in the freezer.
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