Thus I considered all my activites which my hands had done and the labor I had exerted, and behold all was vanity and striving after wind and there was no profit under the sun.
- I can go all LiveJournal emo on you; or
- I can go factual and dry on you.
Since an incredible amount of events have taken place in my life since returning from the Cape, I will attempt to combine erring on the factual-but-not-too-boring side with avoiding unnecessary speculation.
On Saturday Ian and I took a good carload of stuff over to our Marlborough apartment. These loads, while not particularly remarkable individually, have started leaving the Worcester apartment looking increasingly bare. Then I did laundry for the first time in our astoundingly loud washer and dryer; the dryer sounds like I filled it with jeans that had pennies in their pockets, so we will avoid washing and drying too late at night. During that down time, we ate a picnic lunch on the floor (including a decadent two Dove bars each!) and then struck off for Wellesley College.
I say “struck off,” as in an adventure, because this involved driving down Boston Post Road much farther than we’d gone before, as well as following only the sketchiest (not in the New England sense, more in the “wildly incomplete” sense) directions. This through rain that has oscillated for the last week between mildly misting to driving, pounding rain-bullets. Amusingly enough, when we arrived at Wellesley it had shifted into machine-gun mode, and five minutes outside left us with extremely thorough rainwater rinses. After a little unintended exploration, we found the Jewett Arts Center and then easily the Jewett Auditorium, which was lightly sprinkled with well-dressed, artsy-looking women. Shortly thereafter, my friend Vangie appeared on stage in a beautiful red dress. For almost an hour she sang in a voice whose loveliness surprised and captivated me. She sang in Latin, French, and English. I particularly liked the selection she sang from a song called Rencontre, written by Fauré. Some of the words:
Oh, tell me, would you be the unhoped-for person
And the ideal dream so vainly pursued?
O passerby with gentle eyes, would you be the friend
Who would bring back happiness to the isolated poet,
And will you shine on my strenthening soul,
Like the navie sky on an exiled heart?
After a captivating hour, we congratulated Vangie on her excellent performance. Then we drove ourselvse back through rain that, if possible, fell even more heavily than on the way there. Back at the apartment, we finished our laundry and decided on an arrangement for furniture in the living room.
Sunday we went to church, then spent most of the afternoon hanging out with Darren and Michelle. We drove for forty-five minutes looking for a cafe-type place to eat; eventually we ended up at an exorbitantly expensive Italian restaurant not far from the Brooks where I get my pills. The opera CD in the background kept skipping, the lunches cost no less than $15, and we had an enjoyable time laughing at things. Eventually (after a few emotional outbursts) Michelle had to leave but Darren stayed all day. We colored pictures with crayons, watched Entrapment (I had forgotten it was so bad!), and talked. Generally a great day, although by the end of the day my head started swelling with the sick-with-a-cold feeling.
This morning I woke up and sure enough, my throat and head hurt. This term has involved more illness than I have experienced in years – extremely frustrating! However, we packed our car with a rug, two chairs, and our marble coffee table. On the way to meeting our 9:00 meeting with Aunt Pam at Building 19, we dropped the carload off at the Marlborough apartment and started a final load of laundry. Then we spent three hours buying $600 of rugs, throw pillows, blankets, and paints. The hardest part, we found, was making all the decisions: How many throw pillows would our daybed need? Does this red match the red in the rug we bought? Should we actually paint the walls in the den? What yellow do we want in the bedroom? Should the kitchen be red or blue paint? Gaaah!
As the day wore on, I increasingly dragged slower and slower. After painting most of the wall (we ran out of paint) I felt utterly exhausted. The afternoon I spent resting, reading, and sleeping. At 7:00 I woke up disoriented, thinking it was morning light filtering through the windows; but I also heard the music from Guild Wars, and I knew Ian would not have gotten up before 7:00 to play it. And that brings us up to date. My fingers and jeans received some yellow paint stains for painting authenticity as I did the edges of the wall.
For the future, I hope to take a hike on Thursday; paint the kitchen and move all the rest of our stuff into the Marlborough apartment by next Monday; play Rummy Royal with as many friends as possible on the board I colored on Sunday; and have a party on Friday night with lots of people for Michelle’s and my birthday. I hope these things happen, but even if only a few do, I will accept that as well. …Boy, you can tell I have lots of time on my hands because this blog is outrageously long.