The mattress was like a cruise ship, not thrilling enough. So the next day I decided to ditch the mattress and shoot the rapids on a styrofoam noodle.
If “she” exists, that other me who didn’t have a child, she went off on her own in a parallel universe to keep exploring the world.
I wrote this true story years ago but the ending has never felt right, too ghostly to my science-oriented mind. Then last year in a crawl space I found the original journal from where the story originated.
Now it’s even more mysterious.
Who knew there was a virus silently trying to infiltrate everyone’s bloodstream?
“We are, as a species, addicted to story. Even when the body goes to sleep, the mind stays up all night, telling itself stories.”
Every year, about seven of us dress up as made-up people and pretend we work together in an office.
“Men thought women were cows back then. A new calf every year. I don’t go for that crap.” ~Lima Plunkett
Knowing there’s a scientific reason for our SAD doesn’t make it easier to endure.