Chapter Eight
A vague recollection of my morning shower flitted through my brain as I stepped into the stall once again. Massaging my head with fragrant shampoo helped loosen the residual tension I had carried with me out of Studio B. As I rinsed away the remnants from trudging through the jungle of radio operations, I gathered my thoughts. Did I or did I not wish to continue at the station, and why?
I unwrapped the towel from my head, stepped into the kitchen, and stood in front of the open refrigerator until my bare feet felt cool, eventually deciding on a chicken salad sandwich. I ate, the food tasteless in my mouth, as I mulled over my options. Life’s choices are full of positives and negatives, opportunities and sacrifices. I drew a line down a sheet of paper and wrote two lists. Co
