I set it down, feeling grateful that she’s coming back. It’s a little weird without her here. At this point it feels like it would be easy to float off into the clouds of Cuckoo Land, but her presence makes me feel tethered.

I look at my phone. It’s ten.

I put Maureen’s leash on, thinking I really ought to get her back to Cillian soon, and then take her for a walk.

Avalon is really gorgeous. I can’t stop marveling at the power of the quiet. No shrilling emergency vehicles, no one shouting conspiracy theories punctuated with “and that’s what they want you to think!” on a street corner, no metallic revving of power tools, no cars whizzing by at fifty miles an hour. The streets aren’t littered with disused office chairs and mattresses. I’m sure there are times when these things (some of them anyway) might be heard, but it’s clear that here it is at least rare.

I’m starting to feel like the city has been psychically draining my energy every day and I didn’t know it. Not even to mention the pressure of my work and the scathing hatred of the internet. As I look up at the sky, smell the fresh nature around me, and walk down the winding roads, I feel like maybe this is what I need. That even if this is all a hallucination, it’s because my mind is desperate for a break.

All I can hear is my own Reebok Club Cs (well, they’re my other me’s shoes, but that still counts as mine, I think) on the ground, Maureen’s trotting paws beside me, the wind in the grass and trees. I haven’t missed my constant stream of newsfeeds or podcasts. Of course, given everything, my mind is busy already and doesn’t need the extra stimulation, but honestly it feels like even given everything, I am still more relaxed and untroubled than usual. What does that say about my quality of life?

I let Maureen lead me, it seems we have a path we like to walk, and eventually she guides me home, where I feed her and then glance at the time. No rush. As eager as I am to see Aimee, I can also appreciate the fact that I don’t have to dash anywhere.

In LA, my routine is a dry, hurried, but boring part of the day, including celery juice and a slow scramble of unseasoned egg whites (if I’m not intermittent fasting), an upsetting number of vitamins and supplements, followed by an hour on the Peloton and sometimes a soak in the cold plunge tub (hell) or a few minutes in the sauna (better hell).