Yesterday I had a ham sandwich on sourdough and potato chips for lunch, and it felt like a luxurious dinner in a 5-star restaurant. Every bite was scrumptious. I'd been craving potato chips, just plain potato chips, for a few weeks now and I finally gave in and bought a bag. I can't remember the last time something tasted so delicious. And it was just potato chips!
Maybe it's that my nerves have occasionally been stretched so far during these long anxious weeks that the slightest nudge sets them twanging, but I am oversensitive to everything these days. I'm enchanted by the play of light over the trees outside my window. I cry when I hear old pop songs. I moan with pleasure over the salty crunch of a mouthful of potato chips.
I don't know how I'll ever regrow a skin thick enough to allow me to resume anything like a normal life again.