I can’t eat. [Oh, who am I kidding? Of course I can eat–I can always eat.] What I mean to say is, I can’t enjoy what I eat. I am unable to relax. Food has lost its flavour; salt has lost its savour.
I can’t sleep, either. [Okay, I can sleep. I can always sleep.] But my sleep is not peaceful and deep like usual. It is constantly being interrupted by nightmares and hideous hallucination-like episodes. I wake up in cold sweats. Not even the thick luxurious bedding of our Holiday Inn Suites in Great Falls, Montana can keep me sedated.
I’m in a bad way.
I’ve been married almost five months to the day, and I haven’t written a single thank-you note. Not one.
I haven’t even gotten them printed.
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