Posted from the library. No Internet access at home yet.

A therapist told me that the definition of “introvert” is someone who recharges by being alone. That made sense to me. I am very social, but need a retreat in which I rearrange little decorations on furniture and listen to bands nobody ever heard of.

I thought I was tough enough to handle not being accepted into the community in my NC hometown. I always worked out of the county and had my work friends. But when, scared shitless that I had a detached retina as I sat in the patient’s chair at the eye doctor’s next to the empty chair my spouse should have had his ass in and realized there was nobody to call, I realized there was a problem.

When I got to NJ and was dealing with all that goes with relocating, my sister said “You must be overwhelmed.” I answered “I am just so happy!” like my lobotomy was a huge success. But I really am happy.

People here f**king talk to you! I’d forgotten what that is like. And they’re interesting. I hear them talk as loudly as I do and it’s like a lullaby. I hear emotions in the voices again. And that’s just the general public.

Family and old friends are here. And I’m not considered a new neighbor. I’m Betty’s daughter, and I can tell them all the old stories and the names of all the kids that grew up here. If you ever need a lawyer or contractor, my husband has connections… Human urine will keep the deer away from your plants…I baked you some cookies yesterday…. from them. My cell number for the neighbor having surgery tomorrow, my big mouth keeping everybody from getting anything done, enjoying meeting the new kids and grandkids—that’s all I can do right now.

But I can see a lot of helping one another in our future. Even bitches like me need a beautiful day in the neighborhood.

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