Last night I dreamed of reading TGN. In the dream, I was having lunch with Bob Stein, who looked well and happy, and at the end of the lunch, he reached down to the floor and handed me a big heavy green bag full of untidy papers, receipts, bills and said, "Here are your taxes for the last few years. You need to go through them and tell me which are really yours." At that moment, the dream changed from pleasure to anxiety. I didn't want to go back through the wild expenditures and dodged bills of my life, but he insisted.
That's been my experience of re-reading TGN years after my first reading: confronting how much being female has cost.