After receiving a warning from a therapist about the dangers of “swallowing my anger,” I awaken one morning before Christmas with a mysterious ailment that lands me in the hospital. There I learn that life sometimes forces us to find a way to make peace with our own neuroses.
Here I tell a story of my family’s acquisition of not one but two dream homes in California in the 1970s, a time during which we were clearly living — and loving — beyond our means.
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