April 01, 2007

11:20 a.m.

Groundhog Day, Revisited

I finally got up yesterday and moved about a while, read a book out loud sitting up. By late afternoon I took a shower, and since I couldn't bear to wear my sweated-through pajamas (any of them) one more time, I took myself to the laundromat. One load washed and dried without incident; I got water from the spring; it was after dark when I got to the grocery store and bought yogurt, spaghetti sauce and a tomato. I still felt like the living when I got home.

Once again, though, I slept poorly. The headache comes back at night, even though I took a painkiller and Sudafed before I went to bed this time. Sleep was choppy though I got to the dream state at least twice. Bizarre, Sudafed dreams. I was teaching Lincoln to fly. A couple of times, someone scary was after me. Once I sang with my mother.

I feel well enough to meet Steve at least for dinner in Northampton, and it's right down the street from Trader Joe's and Whole Foods (the WalMart of health food stores, I know... they've taken over Wild Oats now, in West Hartford, the last bastion of alternate-choice big organic food markets) so I can get in a little more two-buck Chuck. What? You've never heard of it?

I just learned about it last week, from Dar. We popped in at a T.J.'s in Boston and he pointed this very serviceable table wine out to me: Charles Shaw. Technically it's $2.99 a bottle, more like "Three-Buck Chuck," but because it's not quite three, the lesser name holds. "How good can it be for three bucks?" I asked, dubious. "Try it!" he insisted. "It's great for everyday wine!" So I got a bottle, or more accurately, he got me a bottle, and by golly it's jolly. Really acceptable, and no relation to Boone's Farm, if you know what I mean. Rose's birthday just passed, and he's getting us a case to split in honor of the natal celebration.

He was wondering what else to get her, and I told him about how she'd lost her keys and that the car key was so expensive to replace because it was a laser key, and he sent her a check with a fake derogatory note telling her to get it replaced, and a very funny card about which they both have said, "I can't explain it to you. You'll have to see it!" She got the check yesterday and was thrilled. She's found herself quite strapped now, in the new place by herself with new bills. My sister has always been pretty affluent. This is a big adjustment for her, to ponder over every dollar. I wonder how Mike is doing. Rose heard he's going (or went, at this point) on a two-week trip to Argentina with "a friend," possibly someone he met through a dating service, and she figures he charged the whole trip because she knows how much debt he's in, post-divorce. Hard times for everyone; thank Goddess there are angels. Maybe Mike has an angel, too.

I feel the stiffness in my neck and shoulder (good morning, old friend; isn't it time you left?) from lying in bed so long, and contemplate more ibuprofen for my head. Still, I'm glad to be up; the last viral buggers are heading for the hills and I can look forward to this largely empty week -- and fill it with much-needed things like cleaning this apartment and putting everything away. Dar will probably visit on Thursday -- he's never been here -- and we'll have dinner with Rose, and probably Marc. It will be goooooood. Especially with Two-Buck Chuck.