Note No. 33
December 20, 2009
This was me yesterday:
Sometimes I go quiet. Then you know I’m thinking.
Today, I feel like going quiet but that is what I always do, so I am not going to do what I feel like doing, because that’s too easy.
My urge, though, is to say nothing and just absorb. Absorb what I see. Absorb what I hear. Absorb what I read. Absorb it all and then mull it over for awhile and maybe, maybe by then, I will have something to say. The thing is, though: I may think I have nothing to say but I have everything to say; I’m just doing everything in my power not to say it.
I’m not in a good mood. I’ll tell you that. My staff is getting on my nerves. The electrician is getting on my nerves. The weather is getting on my nerves. This sewer gas taste in my mouth is getting on my nerves. All of my music is getting on my nerves. The motor scooters driving by outside are getting on my nerves.
I am even getting on my nerves.
I am not getting much done, either. I keep thinking about doing my laundry, for example, but I really don’t want to, because half of it is upstairs and half of it is downstairs and to go get the half that is upstairs involves closing up the office, leaving through the front door, going back in through the gate, going upstairs, going into my room, gathering said laundry, and coming back down and inside again exactly the way I went out. So while I could have just done it in the time that it took to type what it involves, I prefer to sit here and complain about how complicated it is.
Like I said, even I am getting on my nerves.
And I am chainpopping coffee candies, because I can’t get rid of that taste in my mouth and once I start, I can’t stop, because the aftertaste from the sweet is almost worse than the original problem, but there is a film starting to coat my tongue.
And I kill the yeast trying to make pizza dough.
And I cut my thumb dicing an onion and have to put a huge wad of Kleenex on it.
And I lock myself out of the house, while the tomato sauce is simmering on the stove, so I go down the street to get the extra key and get back inside to find the pan singed black on the bottom.
And then there is some guy at my door and I don’t even recognize that it’s the guy I hired to make a manhole cover for me and there he is, as he promised: on Saturday.
God bless him.
And so I make some lame comment about him changing his shirt, as if that is really why I did not recognize him, and then he sees the bloody tissue on my thumb and asks about it, and it’s disgusting-looking but I cannot get it off, because the skin is bonded to the Kleenex by the dried blood.
And then Simon & Garfunkel comes on.
And then I burn the hell out of the vegetables in the oven.
And then it’s all too much.
Really, I am just bent out of shape because I have to be here waiting on some guests whose flight is late and who are renting a car and coming over on the CAR FERRY, which is so STUPID; I cannot even believe anyone would be bringing a car to this 4-1/2-mile long island for a three-night stay but there it is, so they are not going to get here until 9pm, but there is always the chance they will park the car on the other side and come on the regular ferry, which means they will be here at 6:30, or 7, or 7:30, so I need to wait around in the event they come early, but all I want to do is have dinner with one of my best friends, who is moving off the island (like, REALLY moving off the island) tomorrow, and at her request, I am making one of her favorite dishes, pizza, just in case they get here in time for me to go up to dinner but if they get here late, we are going to have to save the pizza for tomorrow, when everyone is in the midst of packing and flying around the house with crazy eyes, looking for the very passport that is in their hands at that moment, and it won’t be the same having it for breakfast or lunch even, because there won’t be wine and that sense that tomorrow is still a day away.
And then, wouldn’t you know it? I do finally go upstairs and get my laundry and do a load, and I then get my thumb looking presentable for company, and then the company actually arrives on the regular ferry, because they decided not to rent a car after all, and they are really, really sweet, funny people (like, REALLY nice) and I feel bad that I was ever mad at them but I wasn’t mad at them, really; I mean, I was but I wouldn’t have been mad in any other circumstances, if it hadn’t been that I was potentially going to miss dinner but I don’t miss dinner; I make it, in the end, and to top it off, I have made two of my best pizzas ever, despite killing the yeast and scorching the sauce and torching the squash and forever altering my thumbprint.
So there. So much for going quiet.
Of course, none of that changes the fact that tomorrow is now today and I still have to say Goodbye and I am still sad (like, REALLY, REALLY sad) about that.