It’s icy and sunny out. When we headed out to dinner last night, it was downright balmy. But by the time we were done with our four courses (plus an amuse bouche or two – it’s good to know someone in the kitchen) and three bottles (there were five of us), the temperature had dropped at least 20 degrees.

Whine, whine, whine. Winter is cold! Mostly I’m trying to keep from falling into the-last-day-of-vacation rigor mortis that usually overtakes me. It’s different than early vacation, exhaustion-induced inertia: Overwhelmed by the impending loss of freedom, I find myself having a hard time deciding amongst the trillion ways to savor the last bit of it. Instead, dizzy from the last day of limitless choices, I usually end up in a fetal position under mounds of blankets. I wonder if this is what a furloughed con feels like.

So far I’m off to a better start today. I’ve already left the house and read the paper at the gym (40 minutues on the stationary bike
probably undid one crackle of creme brulee). Appointments: haircut at 11 (with a new haircutter since Hitomi is trapped in Japan for 9 months waiting for her visa) and tennis clinic at 4 promise to keep me out of the bed for the majority of the day.



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