A Hijacked October
Thank God October is just about over.
What’s wrong with the previous sentence? October in the Northeast is far and away my favorite month. Brilliant leaves, spectacular morning frost, air you could bottle and sell to those deprived unfortunates from Los Angeles. Throw in my birthday and Halloween, and you can see why the Christmas season has nothing on these magical moments.
This October was different. Days of interminable rain combined with a head cold that wouldn’t go away, together with my worst depression in years on top of a whole bunch of bad personal stuff plus two family medical emergencies. So this is what it’s like to be dead, I could only think. Give me a bleak, nasty February or stifling, stultifying August any day.
I clearly have been robbed, denied my most life-affirming days of the year, and my psyche is not going to let me forget it. Thirty-one days, it is telling me. You owe me 31 days. Already I find myself trying to strike a bargain. How about four days in a different locale? I find myself saying.
No dice, says my psyche. Ten days in Spain or Italy. Lots of sun, your choice of paella or pasta. Take it or leave it.
Can’t afford it, I counter. Besides, no time.
Think of all those Pollyanna glad passages in the Bible, my psyche rejoins. Well I’m going to come at you with all the bad ones. Wrath of God, plagues, pestilence …
Okay, okay, I concede, I get the picture.
My brain, host to the Apocalypse. Clearly my psyche means business. Pay up or suffer the consequences. Yi-yi-yikes. Owing money to the mob is better than this.
Let’s see what Expedia has going.
Published On: October 28, 2005
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