May 13, 2016

Off to the doctor, where I discover that my blood pressure is well enough and my EKG “looks good” and there is no explanation yet for my comprehensive exhaustion. So, blood test, and returning on Monday. Whole morning lost on that.
   
The Death of A Salesman at Magnetic Theater Thursday night. One of the things devoutly to be desired from a production of a “classic” is such limpidity that the intended and original excellence of the work shines through unmannered and undiminished. This is the rare gift I got from this production, altogether majestic and enlightening. There were, perhaps, ten people in the audience.
   
Nick ripped out the back fence and Joe ground the walnut stumps into powder as I slept my baffling afternoon sleep in the bedroom. I didn’t hear a thing. A carton of trees had come, and though I faced exhaustion, I vowed to get them into the ground so they wouldn’t die. Two mock orange and three sassafras found their forever homes in the 6 to eight feet width I added to the garden by taking out the fence. Part of the action was like sleepwalking, but it got done, and well done.