29 CHARLOTTE MILLER
October 26
Getting out of bed this morning was a challenge. My head ached from the wine I drank the night before. I shuffled to my bathroom, pinching the bridge of my nose to suppress the throbbing pain that was boring a hole in the spot between my eyes. There were some extra-strength ibuprofen capsules in my medicine cabinet, so I popped two of them in my mouth and leaned into the sink, slurping dripping handfuls of tap-water to help the medicine go down. Closing the cabinet, I faced myself in the mirror and stared. I looked exhausted, if not haggard. When did I get so old? I barely recognized myself.
As if having a silent conversation with the woman in the mirror, I kept eye contact with her as I brushed my teeth, washed my face, and applied my collection of face c
