The men in my family lose their ability to wait in line at the age of forty-five. I remember my grandfather, as we were getting ready to go to Disney World, almost losing his nerve and bickering with my grandmother. “The lines, Mary Alice,” he said in urgent tones, “Think of the lines!” Later, my father came to visit me in Kentucky. At what was supposed to be a quick trip to the grocery store, we waited at the meat counter for the lady to slice pastrami. But we were in Kentucky and in Kentucky, a trip to the grocery…
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Some people imagine they have the devil one shoulder and an angel on the other, giving competing advice. For me, I have my sympathetic nervous system shouting in one ear and my parasympathetic nervous system whispering in the other. One is unreliable but sometimes right. The other gives very good advice that I just don’t quite want to take. The first has a megaphone and a Chicken Little complex; the other is like an elusive oracle from some ancient myth. You know it said something of earth-shattering importance that will change everything. The problem is you can’t process the information…
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I hate positive thinking emergencies. They creep up on me at my worst moments. I stand at cliff’s edge, vicious barbarian armies closing in on me. In front of me lies the ocean. Even if I were to survive the sharp rocks that stud the cliffside, there is a sea monster waiting below, his gaping maw revealing rows upon rows of pointy teeth. I feel panic grip my chest, my throat. My hands shake. Then out of nowhere, I feel the hand of my co-worker gently squeeze my shoulder. “Try to think positive thinking,” he says, meaningfully and with sincere…