Sometimes I am overwhelmed by the niceness of people, and then I am sorry that sometimes I wish that the heads of random folks would explode when, e.g., they are in the elevator with me pushing buttons and making it go so slowly . . .

Saturday morning when I got to the 1369 coffee shop, on my third attempt at leaving the house (1. forgot movie to return, 2. needed a long-sleeved shirt), I realized I had left my wallet in another bag. I was all ready to make attempt number three but the nice woman at the register just gave it to me! I'm in there practically every day so I'm sure she recognized me; I have been leaving large tips since then. But I could have wept with gratitude.

This morning, also at the 1369, I saw Andre, my 70-year-old boyfriend. Andre and I had struck up conversation several months ago when I was having my extended morning coffee, and got to talking about Budapest - he is French-Hungarian, I am Hungarian on my mother's side. Then a few weeks ago I recieved a post-card in the mail from Budapest! What a sweet, sweet thing. I gave Andre a card, via his friend the law professor, with two pictures of a fluorescent-labeled cell. He sent me another card with pictures of Budapest and the town he visits in the south of France. Today he told me that he and his son once got each other the same Christmas present, which was microscopic art . . . What a small and novelistic type of world; I am so touched by this series of interactions I squirm and am not sure how best to enjoy . . .

In the midst of despair, gleams of light, you know?