Mouse

 September 25, 2023

Music from the time of Louis XIII, so the caption says.

Arose feeling cool and rested. Had the conviction that this was going to be a good day. 

One benefit of being sick alone is that you can moan every step to the bathroom and nobody is disturbed. 

Watched the movie Brigadoon last night, S and J’s visit having put me in nostalgia for high school, where I played Mr Lundie in the stage version. I’d forgotten what a truly terrible film it is, an apparatus upon which to hang the elements that made Oklahoma and Carousel successes, by then threadbare and calculated. I heard myself praying at every moment of heightened emotion, “PLEASE do not dance again!” But they did. Van Johnson is the only one who emerges with dignity. I tried to remember my emotions relative to it during high school. I guess then it was mostly about impressing my friends and not screwing up my song (as the candy vendor at the fair) and nothing to do with dramaturgy. I remember Brenda Brooks who handed me my Mr Lundie cloak which she had made during Home Ec class. It was the first and only time we ever spoke– ran in completely different circles-- but her eyes shone with pride. 

Music changes to La Follia, my favorite. 

Afternoon: Heavy duty gardening. Anemone, bluebells, crocus into the ground. All cartons of bulbs yet received are accounted for. 

I walked out of the garden into the kitchen and saw something on the floor. I startled before I understood what it was. It was brown mouse with shiny eyes. He nibbled around, trying to find a crumb, not realizing he is the reason I make sure there’s no unenclosed food in the house. He didn’t seem agitated or frightened, and I picked him up without his scurrying or scampering. I put him in the trash bin. A minute later I repented, pulled him out of the trash bin and set him on the lawn. Again, no scurrying or flight. I decided he must be sick. As I watched, greenbottles began to attack him. It looked like there was a sore on his bottom, or his rectum was afflicted in some way. At first he fled from the flies, hiding under Virginia creeper, but the flies pursued him and he gave up. When I turned away, flies had attached themselves to the sore and he didn’t try to shake them away. Do I end misery or let nature take its course? I walked away. After a while I realized that was not the choice I would have wanted had some great power found me afflicted and tormented. I went back, but could no longer find him.

The red of the infection makes a clear border where it left off climbing my leg.