Thank Goddess!

Long day at work, light snow, bitter cold.  Came home today looking forward to checking email, drinking tea, making something.  Mail is here, including this week's New Yorker.  I sit down and start skimming the table of contents and there it is, a Personal History entitled: A Widow's Story, written by herself, Joyce Carol Oates.  No wonder I was singing aloud in the car. It is a good day, indeed. In fact, it just doesn't get any better. I haven't even read the whole thing, but here's the first bit:

Returning to my car, which I haphazardly parked on a narrow side street near the Princeton Medical center, I see, thrust beneath a windshield wiper, what appears to be a sheet of stiff paper. At once my heart clenches in dismay--a ticket? A parking ticket? At such a time? Earlier this afternoon, I parked here--hurried, harried, a jangle of admonitions running through my head like shrieking cicadas--on my way to visit my husband in Telemetry Unit of the medical center in the early evening--anxious, dry-mouthed, and head-aching, yet in a state that might be called hopeful, for  since his admission into the medical center Ray has been steadily improving.

 And on it goes....life is good! JCO can't help herself.  She is, she writes, she delivers!!!!!!