1) Yesterday I returned for my fourth week on the Cape this summer, completely abandoning my morning routine to make the 9 AM ferry. Yesterday was a day of perfect weather, so I was able to sit in the shade on the stern and read The Economist all the way.
2) It takes 20 minutes walking at a brisk clip with my luggage to get from the pier to the house. Once there, I was able to drop my luggage, change clothes, refill my thermos, start recharging my phone, and grab my (already packed) beach backpack to go to the beach before the housekeepers arrived a little before noon. (The rule now is that no one at all is allowed in the house while the housekeepers work their magic.) I felt like I’d earned a gold star, timing it so well.
3) When I was in New York last month I tried to walk with Lady Longstreet’s “peculiar, drifting ease*” because it was so exceedingly hot. Yesterday I tried that again, not because of the heat, but due to two large, broken blisters inside my smallest right toes. The walk in and out was a good workout for me as it was high tide, which usually involves walking through knee-high water part of the way.
4) The pandemic has made me wary of being around lots of people. At the beach, that means hiking even further. Later in town, walking down Comical Street, I saw a cocktail party in progress on a front porch, 20 or so men all standing in close proximity, and I thought “Wow, my life used to be like that.” When is that going to happen again?
5) I found Erik Larsen’s The Splendid and the Vile at Tim’s Used Books, which I brought with me to dinner at the Post Office Café. I broke my diet to have a manhattan with dinner, and later I’d wished I hadn’t.
6) I turned out the lights at 9:45 and slept like a hunk of concrete until 3:30 AM.
7) Today, Thursday, headache and blister anxiety might keep me closer to him. it’s a gorgeous beach day . . . but I’m allowing myself the luxury of not feeling guilty about it.
*From Willa Cather’s beautiful short story “The Old Beauty.”