Today, as I was walking along the way, I saw her again. Yes, there she is -- I saw her yesterday, too. And perhaps, almost certainly, I will see her tomorrow. She's always somewhere. She haunts me. I turn the corner -- there she is ... Eleanor. As I reach for my box of Cheerios in the air-conditioned supermarket, I hear them singing about her on the Muzak -- Eleanor, Eleanor Rigby. I do not escape her...