February 8, 2014

In the moving excavations found my Order of the Arrow certificate from, I think, 1964. Will have it framed, now. Found a cache of old correspondence: in its hopefulness, almost too sad to look upon. Took a load out to River Road. When I was done setting things up, I stood at the river for a while and felt the tension seep out of me. One duck plied the water. Geese called in the low thick clouds, but I couldn’t see them. Entered a sort of trance, which I came out of only when I started shuddering from the cold.

Put an ad to sell the cedar chest on the university listserve. I thought, “someone will pick this up from the porch and I’ll be rid of it without that much effort.” Well, the first person to commit was a secretary in Biology, and when she called, there was a litany of misfortune in her sad voice, “Well. . . I’m a widow. . . No, I can’t pick it up. . .I don’t know who I could get to help you. . . No, I can’t help even a little. . . my back is not very good. . . oh no, I don’t think I could get a student, I’m only a secretary. . . no, I live out in Reems Creek. . ,.” So what was a gesture to save time and energy (and I priced the thing at 1/4 of what I paid for it) will end up being another trip and another lift of dead weight on what will likely by the busiest week of my year. Just goes to show ya’.

Fantastically miserable last night. Watched the merry opening of the Olympics in Russia, the personal wretchedness and the public mirth intertwining strangely, a cable half of silk and half of thorn.. Two bottles of wine sat empty on the counter this morning.