Step on the gas and wipe that tear away

So according to the news, there was a (now thwarted) plot to blow up the Sears Tower. I wasn't surprised; I worry about the Sears Tower. I can see it from the Special Collections desk, and I'm just waiting for the day it's destroyed. If I treat the event as inevitable, then perhaps I won't be shocked if/when it happens. This worrying is, as usual, really just worrying about myself. About what happens when I declare myself, stand out vulnerably.

The discovered plot actually made me feel better. At least I knew my suspicions were confirmed. So yesterday as Andrew was driving me into the city, I looked calmly at the skyline, felt that everything was as it should be, and deserved to be there. Of course, I could have just been distracted by the company, and by the rhymes in "Californication" that make me inordinately happy. Or the past couple of days, filled as they were with Scrabble, the Beatles, chocolate mousse, huddling under my new purple umbrella, and laughing hysterically with my sister. (A Thoroughly Modern Millie is the most utterly silly movie in the whole world, and we love it.)