I wasn't addicted to anything (well, good food, perhaps), I had devised a strategy of my own, a weaving together of favorite pleasures-food, family time, sex, work I enjoyed, tennis, vacations, TV, reading. They made a harmless enough tapestry, a pretty landscape of pleasure speckled with moments of selflessness, annoyance, worry, fear. But it was a strategy all the same, and it had started to wear thin, and then my parents' dying had punched a hole in the worn section. That night, I had the feeling there might he something on the other side, waiting to show itself to
