Lydia Davis: Getting Better

(art: Fred Barnard)

Getting Better

I slapped him again because when I was carrying him in my arms he tore my glasses off and hurled them at the grate in the hall. But he wouldn't have done it if I hadn't been so angry already. After that I put him to bed.
Downstairs, I sat on the sofa eating and reading a mgazine. I fell asleep there for an hour. I woke up with crumbs on my chest. When I went into the bathroom, I could not look at myself in the mirror. I did the dishes and sat down again in the living room. Before I went to bed I told myself things were getting better. It was true: this day had been better than the day before, and the day before had been better than most of last week, though not much better.