I can’t run, but can I hide?

There’s a scene in a Mad Men Season 5 episode (I’m trying to catch up) — Sally (age 10? 11?) has snuck a newspaper out of the garbage bin to read about the strangulation of the Chicago nurses. Her step-grandmother is babysitting, and a bit of a nut. When Sally can’t sleep out of fear from what she has read, grandma gives her half of a Seconal, and falls asleep on the couch with a butcher knife on the table next to her. Sally’s mother and stepfather arrive home in the morning, perplexed by the sight of grandma sleeping on the couch with a butcher knife at hand, and unable to locate Sally, who is lying, stiff with fear, under the couch.

That’s where I am today.

Maybe not very guru-like, but it seems like a relatively safe place to be.

I’ll let you know when I come out.

 

 

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