I was in New York.
My laptop was with a friend.
I went for a family event.
My laptop was in for upgrading.
I came back refreshed.
The laptop is waiting for parts.
We might as well wait together.
I'm surprised at how good I feel. Before I left, I kept thinking I don't want to go, I'm tired, I want to be home with the cats. But I took the bus and the weather was fine, I was staying on the Upper West Side (VERY nice, for those not familiar with what I call The Old Country), and everything else went well. I even spent a couple of pleasant hours with one of the men who answered the Scaramouche ad that I posted to the NY craigslist. The ad that no one was supposed to answer. I'm not at all attracted to him - after all, he's interested in me, how could I possibly be attracted to him? - but it was indeed a very pleasant couple of hours sitting on the sidewalk on Amsterdam Avenue sharing a quesadilla and talking about this and that. It felt very normal.
And how could I not feel good after an actually very lovely family party where I could see the Statue of Liberty from my seat at the table.
Maybe I need to do this more often. A weekend away. Normal activities. No computer access.
And constant thoughts of ...
No. Not of the philosopher. Even though there had been all these fantasies once of visiting him in New York and roaming the city together.
Of course he wasn't absent from my mind. How could he be? But I didn't obsess quite the way I expected to. Maybe the silent treatment is working. I haven't heard from him since he pulled the plug for good, despite all my attempts at reestablishing contact. Maybe he thinks I'll eventually forget him.
I won't forget him. But maybe it will be easier to let go.
And my thoughts while I was gone?
Ah, but you know that.