Like Klingsor’s flower garden at the end of Parsifal‘s second act, Ocean Beach and environs were drained of all summery pleasures in an instant. For me, the instant fell when Will and his parents left, yesterday; what had been an iffy but not unpleasant day became a maelstrom of loss. This morning, something like an actual maelstrom showed up, sending curtains flying and drumming rooftop rain. A more miserable hour for lugging boxes to the post office — we sent four, stuffed with clothes and books and whatnot — cannot have been imagined, without making the weather actually exciting.

I am eager to leave; I’m dying for a cup of tea. The propane ran out (again!) on Saturday, and a boatload of food went to waste because we couldn’t cook it. It seems that the propane tank was unmoored somewhat by the storm surge; by the time it was reattached, it had leaked considerably. (It had been a fresh tank as of the previous Friday, as I should know only too well.) Saturday was the first day of the holiday weekend, of course, and although I was assured that someone would stop by (I knew whom to call), no one ever showed up, and no one has even yet.

I did read Emma, all in a great gulp; never have I gone through one of Jane Austen’s novels so briskly. I was right to think that speed would cause changes in tone to register more clearly, and the novel presented a four-part structure as if in a satellite photograph. More about that when I can enjoy a cup of tea! Now it’s time to put the computer away, along with everything else that we are carrying back to the city, and prepare to vamoose.

Drop me a line at rjk@dailyblague.com
This entry was posted on Tuesday, September 6th, 2011 at 3:04 pm.