Striding down the pavement at eight o’clock in the morning, weighed down by books and bags, tasting winter air and the smell of exhaust, I sang Funny Honey to a startled pair of high school students, stopped for a bagel and hot chocolate at Einstein’s. Pulled up a chair to watch early classes straggle by, played with the strand of pseudo-jet beads I wore underneath my white blouse. Read the New York Times Book Review. Studied French, edited an essay. Read a chapter on ascomycota (a particular type of fungus that apparently plagues vegetables) , smiled beningly at Sir Thomas More, cursed the author of Hegemony for his academic prose. Attended class, bought pure indulgence in the form of 3.52 ounce Toblerone. Furtively admired my Amélie desktop picture. Bought milk from the vending machines, pretended that the milkman brought it by in one of those old-fashioned carriers. Flirted for the sake of the beads near a microwave. (Yes, a microwave. Before lunch. Unfortunately, he was a business major). Was tempted to buy a Sex and City poster and Iris and Her Friends, by John Bayley. Resisted both, much to my chagrin. Gloated over 81 reviews for Family Matters. Wrote a scathing letter I won’t send, mostly for therapy’s sake.

It’s not, perhaps, the most exciting life one could live. But it boasts quite a few delights.

It was inevitable, really, that I should come out of Chicago utterly lost to it. However, I did not anticipate singing my way to the car, daydreaming a costume of white sequins and a beautifully marcelled head of hair. I should have. And it was so easy to succumb to obsession, and to purchase the soundtrack. . . and then to sing along with Renee Zellweger, try to fumble my way through Catherine Zeta-Jones's dances, and to fall in love with Richard Gere's twinkling, brown-eyed smile. Then it's just an easy step to singing Cell Block Tango in the parlour, belting out All That Jazz at the old kitchen table, and humming Nowadays to myself as I slide my nightgown over my head. It's a good song to fall asleep to, I think. There's men, everywhere. . .jazz, everywhere-- booze, everywhere- life, everywhere. . .joy, everywhere.