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Free

This morning, on my way to pick up the Sunday Tribune, orange juice and croissants, I realized just how free I am in the world. I literally had to stop and get ahold of myself on the street. I was near tears. An unbelievable feeling of euphoria swept over me as I was walking. I'm free. Free!

If I wanted to spit on the ground, I could. If I wanted tea and apples, I could get them. If I wanted to go back to my apartment and have a vibrator-induced orgasm, I could. If I wanted to just be, I could.

Free. I tell you, free.

How could I ever be envious or jealous of another human being when I'm free. Free to do whatever I want to do with my life. As I get closer to my 30s, I think these epiphanies will occur more often. And I like that.

So I bought my paper, juice and croissants and went back to my apartment, where I noticed a message waiting for me on my voice mail: Zaftig, call me ASAP! I got those runs back. There's trouble."

It was "Heather" from work.

I called her back, and now I'm on my way to Wilmette to sort some things out before Monday. Grrr.

Free, my ass!


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