Why am I so stressed out?

I swear, it’s like I need a sedative or something. I’ve been yelling at my cats for being cats, knocking things over on my desk and tripping on wires and looking around for someone to yell at about that. But of course there’s only me, so I glared at the universe. (What that looks like: me whipping my head around and frowning in all directions.)

There’s no reason for it. The dress rehearsal for our performance is tonight and that is always nothing but fun. I also swam and mediated this morning, so I should be floating on a cloud of endorphins and Buddha-like equanimity.

Except … we got our positions for the concert and once again I’m in the second to last row in the back, proof that our director hates me. Not really. Last season, when I was also in this spot there was someone with a gorgeous voice behind me. Still, it does feel like he wants me as far away from him as possible. Ohmygod, I’ll bet that person with the beautiful voice behind me was there by mistake! We shall see who is around me tonight. (I’m kidding. I mean, I have no illusions about my voice, but who knows John’s reasoning behind where he puts us.)

Looking down an alley/driveway somewhere uptown.


Stacy Horn

I've written six non-fiction books, the most recent is Damnation Island: Poor, Sick, Mad, and Criminal in 19th-Century New York.

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