Friday, March 16, 2007
Being a doctor, however, he couldn't help asking me more questions. At first I was somewhat embarrassed, being unused to this "therapy" thing. But he kept asking "Why?" to whatever I said and before I knew it I was telling him about my monster ex-roommate and how she made me FEEL.
It turned out that what stressed me out about her is not so dissimilar from what's stressed me out about the wedding: both relate to the very cliched sense I have that I'm not quite ready to be an adult yet. (I know! So rare among my age group.) While chiding me gently on this point, the doctor reached over and started scribbling something on a pad; then he handed the note to me.
I burst out laughing. "It must be true, 'cause it's on letterhead," I said.
We'll see how well my magic feather works the first time I really have to fly. But for now, suffice it to say that the idea of it -- and its presence in my bag -- makes me absurdly happy.