Double Entendre

Not that it matters, but things went rather smoothly today, my old self, with my old strength, for a few hours, though gall still worms its way through me when I exit through the vestibule, and my sorry past sits there before me, as if looking at it through plexiglass. Any normal woman would have left this environment after breaking a wedding engagement, burning so many bridges; my only consolation is apparently exhausting myself on Wagner, and this is just television. How does a live audience manage it, let alone the poor fellow doing Wotan? Wagner, like most everyone else who ascribes anything about it, Shakespeare, for instance, is seemingly a pessimist about power. The SWGs who script Criminal Minds were not up to it during Ms. Brewster's protracted departure in a series which is so schematic and out in left field that it more aptly fails as a black comedy rather than succeeds as a procedural drama. Yes, the team always cautions that *profiling* is a tool, but this is one crime drama that does its viewers a disservice. When this preposterous ring cycle reaches its scheduled conclusion tomorrow, perhaps I will undergo fresh brain growth. My equilibrium has recovered, but I shall have to be more cautious on my downturns. I have had attacks (menopause, stress driven, stages of emphysema) for years, but what hit me over the weekend struck for three days, and I thought a catastrophic medical incident was imminent.