Last night I celebrated our nation’s return to reason. I read the New York Times and listened to cello music on a scratchy record. I baked a cake, and I chatted with a gentleman caller, completely unchaperoned.
As Mr. Vonnegut would say, “If this isn’t nice, what is?”
…Every time I hear “President-elect Obama,” my blood pressure eases, my shoulders sink, and I lose the lines between my eyebrows.