prev special guest appearance next
2001-09-09 | 5:32 p.m.

So this morning I'm sleeping in, but having troubled dreams. In one of my wakeful periods I realize that my only real goal in life is to live an untroubled life. Everything else is what I fool myself into thinking I'm about, but what I'm really about is not being bothered, stressed, destroyed by life. I want the siesta.

But instead I have to decided whether to work on the short-term project at home or the long-term project in San Francisco. If I drive to San Francisco, the traffic will be a big snarl because there's some fancy bike race going on, and Lance Armstrong will be there. (I think it's swell that Lance Armstrong beat cancer, but I still say the Tour de France is rigged.) But if I don't drive into San Francisco, when the heck am I going to get my work done? I don't want to think about it, so fall back asleep. My lime-green walls lull me to sleep. I never thought lime-green would be a good color for a bedroom but somehow, they work. They're so tropical.

Awakened by the phone at 8:30. It is Duff's mother on the machine, saying brokenly that she is in Tahoe (what?) with a friend and she wants to know if I would mind if she drove down for a visit.

Surely I've got that wrong. The message is breaking up. People from Michigan do not just appear in Tahoe with no prior warning. "You're in Tahoe?" I say, uncomprehending.

Yes, she is in Tahoe, her friend has a time-share, and she would like to drive down, and it will take her 2 hours from Truckee, and she can take the kids to the park.

"No," I say. "You can't make it from Truckee in two hours." I am counting: hours, minutes, living room, dining room, two bathrooms, girls' room, laundry, hair, shoes, baths, shower, Mom, driving, naps. Clock hands are spinning out of control in my mind, like in the movies. Pages are flying off my mental calendar.

"Sure," I hear myself say. "The kids will get a kick out of that."

prev archive next
0 comments