Day is night, night is day, sleep comes and goes, hours are a jumble of mismatched moments.
Someone called me the other night – I had been fast asleep. She asked me to call a friend of ours and I responded that I could not – my money on the phone card had run out. Indeed, my money on my phone card had run out on the last day in France. The startling truth is that I do not need a phone card in Madison.
Sunday comes and I ask friends to come over for lunch. Goat cheese on toasts over a salad and rosé wine (Coteaux du Languedoc. I am your advocate, your mouthpiece here. I walk with images of your vineyards in my head).They indulge me and break up their weekend to be at the loft. I pick berries early in the morning and search for baguette substitutes at the store. I am happy. Sunday afternoon, at home, with goat cheese toasts and friends. And two saved Basque cakes – one with cherry preserves and one with honey and spices.
It’s blissful to have this more leisurely approach to the day and indeed, when the last person leaves and the last dish has been put away, I take a nap.
I wake up two hours later – it is not quite dark. Have I missed a post? Should I be at work? No, it is not night turning into day, it is day turning into night.
I drink coffee nonetheless. I think I should have a croissant with it. I know not to go in to the office, I know that much.
And I did not miss an Ocean day, I am here, at the computer and I know to write. There are a few certainties to my days right now. But only a handful. On most fronts, I have been sucked into a sea of confusion.
OCEAN TEASER: this week, look forward to announcements concerning a brand new Ocean policy and a forthcoming trip into the wilderness. Ah, the wheels of change!