I slept for ten hours last night, a deep, dream-infused sleep that was at least three nights overdue. The cats were with me as I drifted off, Simone on my chest and Ivan in the crook of my arm, both of them purring and still.
No drug has yet been synthesized that can approximate the physical sensation of sleeping between two purring cats. I presume that the pharmaceutical companies are working on it.
When I woke up today, I felt strangely lifeless. My morning cup of tea had no effect, and it did not occur to me to have an afternoon cup of coffee. I forced myself to run a few errands, which made my foot hurt terribly, then decided that I would stay in tonight.
The washing machine is filling in the background. If nothing else, my lame foot will be clothed in a clean sock tomorrow.
Last night, after a late union meeting, I met James for drinks at the café. It was good to see him, to reconnect after a period of distance and tension. Perhaps these things aren’t always terminal?
Our theme last night was the crossroads, which in this case refers to the vantage point between the last ten years of your life and the next. You don’t regret the last, which are the life you’ve known until now, for better or for worse; you wouldn’t change them. But looking forward, you know that you need the next to be different.
James and I are both thirty-three. I suspect that this is relevant.
My father turned sixty-five today. I called to wish him a happy birthday, and promised to send him a gmail invitation. I told him that every senior citizen should have a gmail account, and that he can use it for internet dating. Yes, my father is still internet dating.
I will have dinner with my friend Esther tomorrow, who is visiting from Toronto. I am looking forward to seeing her, and to hearing the latest goss from T.O. I just hope she doesn’t want to go out dancing afterwards.