what is the word

My favorite person at work is this teeny-tiny little Iranian woman. She has many charming habits, but I think the best is that she walks around talking to herself, & when she does she says only one of two things: "Unbelievable!" or "It's OK." She doesn't exactly mutter them to herself, she says them pretty loudly & her accent makes it perfect. She utters "Unbelievable!" with this half-shocked, half-disgusted tone, while her "It's OK" has a convinced, affirming quality.
In a sense, what else is there to say about anything anyway? It's pretty much how I've felt since the whole Bush-winning-the-election thing. At first I kind of walked around thinking to myself, "Unbelievable! Unbelievable!" I still think that, but it's starting to be tempered by the calmer, more reassuring "It's OK."
It is OK, or it feels OK just today. Em's got his picture on the cover of the Rolling Stone. $400 vibrators are finally available on the Upper East Side. I had dinner with two friends last nite & we finished two bottles of wine much too soon so we had another one delivered. This morning I woke up forty-five minutes before my alarm & I read three perfect little stories from the book Polly lent me. & I remembered what I had dreamt: that my friend Paul was giving a lecture on women in rock music. He was setting up a projector to show slides, & he asked us what rock musician looked most like Marlene Dietrich. Everyone was guessing, shouting. I thought I knew but Paul couldn't hear me because of all the clamor. Paul, I said, Paul, Paul, Paul. Is it Annie Lennox? I don't know why I thought it was Annie Lennox.
No, he said, fiddling with the projector. That's not even close.
I woke up before he said the answer. The dream meant nothing, absolutely nothing. It's OK.