Jackie Danicki

This morning, leafy North London. This evening, graffiti-heavy Jamaica, Queens. Something about the journey from one to the other with no sleep in between makes me buzz.

I cried on the plane, sad about not seeing Antoine till June 30. Now, after a Happy Meal (not that I buy the marketing; McD’s is across the street) and with the prospect of a hot shower, things don’t seem so bad. Silly, no? Reminds me of Nigella recounting how her young son said to her as she unpacked groceries, “I am so sad that daddy died.” In the next breath, spotting what she had taken out of a bag, he squealed, “Ooh, Twiglets!”

(Actually, a long phone call from Antoine helped. He can make life sound so easy sometimes. Depressed by smug, ignorant people? Avoid them. Angered by the news? Avoid it. Venting about it all doesn’t help? Stop. I may have to experiment with these suggestions.)

Typing this from the BlackBerry, whose constant companionship I missed in London. Will sort out comments when reunited with laptop.

Filed under: Life