In the last 24 hours or so, I’ve been growing increasingly tense.

I don’t know if it’s just the three cups of coffee I drank this morning.

Or the sort of frustrating family spats that I always forget about when I’ve been away.

Or that I don’t know how I’m going to afford to stay in Toronto this summer.

Or that the gIbuwlm* (“guy I broke up with last month” or “gibewlim,” for easier pronouncing) emailed about having dinner tonight or Tuesday several days ago to discuss salvaging our battered friendship (which is much much older than our dating relationship) and I wrote back today, question mark, but he hasn’t called or written back and it’s after 5:30. (Scratch that, he called as I was writing this.)

Or how dinner will go.

Or. Or. Or. Or.