November 1--I don't remember

November 2--

  • Applied for Medicare

  • Paid my taxes

  • Called the tree surgeon

  • Called the carpenter

  • Wrote long overdue thank-you note

  • Sewed masks I'd promised to a friend

  • Took my winter sweaters out

  • Watered the plants

  • Put the air-conditioner away

  • Cleaned the house

I didn't actually get my financial records in order, update my will, and write a farewell note.

November 3, so far—

  • Woke up

  • Ate a clonazepam

All this because… Four years ago, I went to bed at 9, serene as could be, never thinking. I woke up at 2 am, heard the words "president-elect [you know who]" on my soft radio, and experienced nirvana--in that I saw the whole black universe before me and floated for a few supremely serenely, sensationless, pre-linguistic, dissociated moments.

Before feeling both heartbeat and thought telling me, "It has come again." And feeling grateful that my father—who had survived (if you can really call it that) one holocaust—had died before it had.

I still don’t know who won this election. I have not dared to turn on the radio, which has been off fir four years. Today I will spend all day fearing nirvana.

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