Three recent moments:

82.

I'm riding my trainer on my back porch, pedaling with one leg to improve my stroke. It's 20 degrees. A neighbor in the backyard holds a cigarette between fingers that tremble in the cold. Her dog rolls around in the snow. And they both stop what they're doing and look up at me like I'm the crazy one.

83.

The lesbian bar down the street -- one of the lesbian bars down the street -- has two giant nutcrackers stationed outside its door. Their chompers are as big as bear traps and look just as benign.

84.

Someone steals my salad from the break room. I spend the rest of the night casually glaring at my co-workers. I search their eyes for treachery. I search their teeth for specks of spinach.