Up Late

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Really, I ought to be in bed, or at least sitting quietly with a book (Alice Munro’s The View From Castle Rock, which has captured my reader’s interest because I waited until I thought that it would). I most certainly ought not to be hanging over the computer, even with a mug of hot chocolate. The chocolate is delicious, but any soporific effects are bound to be countered by the buzz of writing even a simple entry such as this one.

I’m in the middle of a swirling week, really a quite extraordinarily busy one after weeks of quiet – and I’m loving it. Tomorrow (later today, I should say) holds a great treat in store, and I’m not talking about the Remicade infusion that I can just, shy of three months since the last one, feel the need of. Remicade is a miracle, not a treat. The treat is meeting a long-time correspondent and fellow blogger who lives in a foreign capital. More than that I shall not say, not, at least, without said blogger’s permission.

Tuesday night posed a challenge: my first night out since giving up the martinis. The occasion was the first Orpheus-at-Carnegie concert of the season, which I’ll write up presently (as soon as I’ve seen what the Times has to say about it). In the old days, I’d have gone straight from Carnegie Hall to the Brooklyn Diner, not as much as a block away, for a dinner of Eggs Benedict and three martinis. Then I’d hop in a taxi (or, if the taxis just weren’t driving by, the subway) and go home – where I very well might have another martini. Eventually, I would pour myself into bed, but I wouldn’t remember doing so.

Last night, I went to the Brooklyn Diner first. The place was packed, so I sat at the bar. I ordered Pigs in a Blanket, an appetizer that will serve as dinner for me, and a glass of Sauvignon Blanc. I had a second glass of wine, paid the bill, and left. Then, for reasons that I don’t care to discuss, I had a third glass of wine in the bar at Carnegie Hall, just before the concert. It was a that-or-else glass of wine, and I regretted it very much during the second half of the program, because my eyes kept wanting to close. This would never do, as, for reasons that I’ll enumerate when I write about the concert, I intended to pay the closest attention. I triumphed, but it was a struggle. When I got home, I did not have a fourth glass of wine. I had hot chocolate instead, and I was soon very sleepy. But then, I wasn’t at the computer.

Amplification: I was not at the computer trying out a new HTML editor.

May the morning sun kiss you and keep you warm and dry all day. In the absence of sunlight (such as I’m afraid we’re expecting), my good wishes will have to do.

PS: Even Monday brings treats, one of them an iPod Nano. It’s the model for me, I’m told. I can’t imagine actually using it, though – it seems, like Facebook and Capri pants, so age-inappropriate!

See Me Now.

One Response to “Up Late”

  1. 1904 says:

    Compared to you I am burning the midday oil (as someone once said of Ronald Reagan — he was a man who really burned the &etc.), but I do feel as if I’m up very late myself although that would only be true by your clock. In any event, thank you: Facebook and Capri pants are defnitely and strictly for the young. I’m letting them have the iPhone and iPod too, but that may be giving up more than I need to at this stage. Let me know if the iPod Nano works for you. Now try and catch some shut-eye. As they say.