After the Holiday
I don't believe it! In the middle of a thunderstorm, the knuckleheads down the street are operating a crane? Has the existence of the Internet somehow made this an okay thing to be doing?
It's a lot cooler outside than it has been. Kathleen is taking the day off, and all I can think of is (besides electrocuted crane operators and pulped passers-by) is the deep pleasure of the old song about the rain pouring and the old man snoring. "Won't come back till the morning."
We had a lovely gathering, last night, of old friends and new. We watched the fireworks from the roof - still possible although somewhat thwarted by the construction of a tall building somewhere in the vicinity of New York Hospital. There were lots of smiley faces at the start, but quite a number of innovative pyrotechnics at the finish, including some strange green and red formations that lingered in the sky for twenty or thirty seconds (forever in fireworks). They began to look like chromosomes. How do they do that?
I have an infusion today - the perfect opportunity to finish The Girls Who Went Away. But perhaps the Infusion Unit is not the ideal venue. The overwhelming majority of infusees are women - I can count on one hand the number of times another man has been getting treatment. Some of them may well be (a) birth mothers or (b) adoptive mothers. I wouldn't want to upset anybody.
