And then one day

And then one day I felt suffocated and enraged and had to run for the hills. No more piling up at the predawn hours at the YMCA with the cliquey ladies and high strung OCD neurotics. I was free at last. No thanks, I'd rather walk. No thanks. No thanks. Stop e-mailing me. Go away. I LIKE walking, I get to see my city detectives, postal workers, and local librarians.

One day the robot fire insurance Max Headroom Mr. Clean look alike man was teasing me in his galumphy boorish way. "Someone's off their medication." Goddamnmuthafuckinsonofabitch I said, dumping his swim bag into the pool. The next day I apologized but he made it worse. "That's why God made soap." I had no idea what he meant. "So you could wash your mouth out with soap." "But you deserved it," I said. I haven't been back.

I am enjoying not seeing all of these annoying people who I have come to loathe. I kept a predictable schedule during COVID. I injured my foot and needed a lift. All of that is last years news.

My husband reminds me that I am an introvert. I hate parties, family gatherings, weddings and birthday parties. I despise BBQ's beaches, country houses, boats, and drunken promises.

My siblings have the habit of contacting me from airport lounges, or moving trains, in drunken texts. They don't realize how much they are like my biological father. The six foot four jogging MADMAN three Martini lunch alcoholic in Midtown. My siblings stayed upper middle class. I never was. I was running away at age 13. They see travel as a virtue. I see brains as a virtue, libraries as churches. Creating versus consuming. What's between your ears and your shoulder-blades.

You were happier during COVID when Christmas and Thanksgiving were cancelled, my husband reminds me. It was a dream come true to only see a few people when walking my dog. Keeping a distance.