I couldn’t sleep. You’d think chair yoga wouldn’t be tiring, but it was, and I was wired.
I checked out the mailing I did on Mailchimp of my new children’s book. Then I went to the kitchen and spread some smooth peanut butter on a slice of multi-grain bread. I dabbed lumps of grape jelly on top. Just before spreading the jelly around with the butter knife - in that precious gap of time- for a splendid minute -everything was normal. I was myself. I could breathe natural without sensing Miss Corona floating in the air… I could eat my snack without
washing my hands for the umpteenth time. It was the peanut butter magic. That staple food from childhood
had a powerful healing effect. I remembered in awe that in junior high my bad boy boyfriend
liked peanut butter sandwiches with mayonnaise and banana. He was a flash of brilliance gone wrong. He’s gone now–He had tough times, but was lucky to have escaped Miss Corona.