January 8th, 2005


(no subject)

I have not been able to sleep particularly well. I keep waking and looking at the clock. While a part of that restlessness is my thinking about Mike, more is simply about worrying that I'll miss the plane. Taking flights is stressful that way. Everything has to be packed in a bag, I have to be there at the right time. I have been thinking of where I will sleep, too. I made no arrangements, thinking I could stay at my sister's, but with Karol and Cathy coming how many beds can there be? I am, of course, happy to stay on the couch. I have had to pay out so much more than I am taking in lately that I worry about getting a motel room.

Death has never been a comfortable subject for me. I have not accepted my own eventual demise. I wonder what it will take to do so. Having it stare me in the face like this is like being swallowed by a black cloud.

Yet as I finally gave up and got up, forgoing the comfort of the little Stretch, who lay tucked and purry next to me, I thought of other things. Of getting a picture of Stravinsky on the chorale web site. I am going to do that now.