My day today can be characterized by a gradually tight feeling in my chest (anxiety) and my accidental application of hairspray to my wet hair (stupidity).

Momentarily, I am off to Secretary Luncheon--an event for which I am responsible once a year. It involves nothing more complicated than telephoning a restaurant to make a reservation for twelve people, but for some reason, there is always a lot of hubbub surrounding its planning. Meetings, called by the head secretary, a woman whose strong resemblance to the character of Roz in the movie Nine to Five allows me to discount her authority. Meetings she sets up to discuss the agenda, and which I strenuously avoid.

What's to discuss? The meeting is, essentially:

1. Arrive
2. Eat some food
3. Talk amongst yourselves
4. Leave

Assuming the restaurant has recorded our reservation, I foresee no complications.

To cheer myself, I joined the For the Love of Leonards group on Facebook. "A safe place to openly adore both Cohen and Nimoy," the group advertises, and perhaps that safety, so long denied, will usher in a slight easing of this tightness in my chest. I have waited so long without even knowing why.

I did not know exactly what I was missing, but I have long been looking for it, as evidenced here.

Star of the day. . .Leonard Bernstein