when food is the best medicine

I'm having one of those days, one of those terrible, horrible, no good, very bad days. I missed the subway twice today and left my lunch on the countertop this morning and I think I broke my iPod waiting for the bus and on top of all that, I feel like there's not an unmarried man under 50 left in this city because all the 23-year-old girls are already dating them, and I feel bloated and ugly though I'm not even PMSing at all. I'm just cranky and awful and not quite sure if I should just climb into bed now or take some time to cry first. And then I remembered I haven't even eaten anything today and I'm ravenous, so I order a stromboli and walk down to the corner in the rain to pick it up—and lo and behold! There's the pizza man, he's fully under 50 and he's smiling at me and flirting and trying to make a little time. And I've never been so happy to see a stranger in my life. Thank fucking god for the pizza man, or I swear to christ I was about to hang myself.

molasses

I realized today that it is winter afterall and things will have to change again until spring. It's not the cold that reminded me. Though no one ever believes me, I love the winter air, I love those icy bursts of wind that snap across and through me. They surprise me and the surprise makes me laugh.

What reminded me that things will have to change was my inability to get it together this morning, to dress and to begin my day. Somehow I function so very slowly in the winter. My limbs become heavy and I think my synapses become wider so I can't think as quickly. I lose much of my focus and what little organization I ever had to begin. My mind works only in fits and starts and my body moves as in molasses, and in the end, it takes a very long time to do anything. I'm just slow in winter is all. Everything is so slow.