Dr. House always says

When you hear hoofbeats think horses not zebras.

I think it's possible that I've been overthinking this. Yesterday I realized that there are 2 other things that have been going on that might be contributing to the anxiety.

1. They are pointing the bricks on my apartment building which means there are men and scaffolding and dust and stuff right outside my window. As a matter of fact my windows are where the equipment comes to rest every night and when I get up in the morning I have to be aware of when these guys show up since they can see right into my apartment.

2. It's the 5th anniversary of 9/11 tomorrow. The Times has been running a series of articles about the anniversary and I read one over someone's shoulder on the train last week. It was about the difference between New Yorkers who lived here in September 2001 and people who have moved here since then. There was a quote from a young woman who moved here about a year ago, she said, in essence, that it was weird, no one ever talks about it and she wants to. Well, yeah, it's not something we talk about, it's a very rare thing to discuss. I've got a number of theories on it but the simplest analogy I can come up with is that if you'd survived some trauma, say, a bus crash with a few people you wouldn't force a fellow survivor to talk about it, you wouldn't keep bringing it up all the time. It's not something to talk about casually and sometimes you just don't feel like talking about, if you talk about it too much it's too hard to get on the bus every day.

That being said, it might be time for me to talk a little. I slept to much better last night after realizing this...well, not counting the getting up to listen to the 2 gentlemen who got into a rip roaring shouting match on the street at 4:30. Again, Vanx has been talking beautifully about it and I've let myself get all caught up in trying to do it "that well" instead of doing it my way.

I'm off to brunch in a bit but I'll start with this:

On September 7, 2001 the kittens turned 1.

On September 9, 2001 we interred Grammy Fern in China, ME.

September 11, 2001 was my last day of temping at the lifestyle magazine and I was right on time.