On the Satisfaction of Honest Fatigue
The moon glimmers through thin clouds over Astoria.
In the event, I got to sleep fairly quickly last night. I even turned out the lamp on my bedside table, something that I’ve been loath to do lately, because it has felt like a kind of burial alive. I got up early this morning as well, excited by the prospect of my big day.
After a delightful lunch at the Bateau Ivre, I quick-marched to the hospital for the Remicade infusion, arriving only minutes late. For the most part, I read The View From Castle Rock while I sat in the chemo chair, finding the book both comfortable and disturbing. When the infusion was over, I checked in with Kathleen, who was headed off to a late night at the printer, and decided to walk home along the river. It was very peaceful – because it was very chilly. I wished for a pair of gloves!
At 81st Street, I climbed the long flight of stairs with two intermediate landings and caught my breath as I continued along the Finley Walk. By the time I left the park, I was tired enough to consider hailing a taxi to carry me the few remaining blocks. I did get home on my own steam, but even though I was very hungry and quite in the mood for a ham-and-cheese sandwich (as if I hadn’t had a croque monsieur at lunch!), I had no choice but to sit still for a little while before tackling the cold cuts. Among other matters, I had to decide on the color of Nano that I want. It’s impossible, because I don’t want any of them. I’ll settle, I suppose, for the brushed black. Kathleen and I agreed that we do not live on the same planet as the apparently quite anemic people for whom Apple selected its iPod colors.
In the course of our morning badinage, something that Kathleen said prompted me to interject, “A steal at eleven hundred dollars!” I’ve no idea what it was that she said, but now there’s nothing for it but to watch Rear Window, the film from which that remark comes. Speaking of films, I remembered to click the “Tomorrow” button before I checked movie possibilities for tomorrow morning. Good thing, too; for a moment there, I thought that there was nothing worth seeing besides Reservation Road. I am happy to report that La Vie en Rose has finally disappeared from the Angelika’s screens; now, will it please appear on DVD so that I can watch it over and over and over at home.