I slept reasonably well, but I had one of those nightmares that rattle your soul, displace your heart, and which require some kind of recalibration. I don't remember much of the nightmare, just that my cat, a combination of Emmy and Cooder was dead, and it was not a pretty picture. I'm sure there is a meaning and symbolism beyond that but the grief and dread energy, which is as close to reality as it can be, does not leave the nervous system very fast.
Given that John and Mel don't have to rise and shine in quite the same way and would not be in immediate need of the facilities, I made my hot water and honey and took a relaxing, short bath to see if that soothed and comforted at all. In Long Island, I step outside to the kitchen porch for some very fresh air and some morning rays, if there are any. Different life here in Brooklyn.
One of my favorite things taking the subway to and from work was seeing all those people, and there were a number of them, huddled hungrily over their copies of The New Yorker. My subscription lapsed, but I am fortunate enough to be a subway commuter again, I will re-up.
I liked the geometry and color here.
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