Dark Mood
Its winter in Madagascar, and summer in my outside world. Laure’s gone; and so is the noise, banter and general movement occurring around her. Sometimes it comes as a shock, though it shouldn’t after this many years, to realize that she forces life to whirl around us, when nearby. Things just happen. Now, almost a week after her departure for sunnier climes (France filled with Icelandic ash?), here I am on a dreary Saturday morning in Antananarivo, with mist everywhere, shutting out the sun, which doesn’t appear to want to shine anyway. Ah well. Its still early, I generally wake between 4 and 5, and I have an hour and half before Solofo (this morning) shows up to haul me off to a quiet office building for a few hours. Then, maybe a pizza at Palladio on the way home. The sun may be out, and the French will be there by then.
Last night, or early evening anyway, (Now, I leave the apartment as the sun rises, maybe; and get home around the time it disappears.) Laure’s gone, so its Vohangy and me in the apartment. She putters around, making salads for the fridge, and dinner, which I didn’t eat last night. I’ll heat and eat tonight, though it looked good. Steak and green beans. Yes grasshopper, you have learned your lessons well, working with the iron cheftess. Yeah, I know. It isn’t a word, but what the hell, it works. Since I am no longer trusted to make anything healthy, instructions were clear. Don’t let him eat the crap he eats normally; and I’ll give her credit, she is working hard at following those instructions. As for me, I do what I do. By then, I’ve usually been up about twelve or more hours, and allow myself a catnap while she cleans around me, and hums now. I think we’ve worn off on her. Then she’s gone; and it quiets down immediately. Since we found the cache of DVDs at the Wilson’s I’ve got things to watch going to sleep at night. Sound of Music two nights ago; and Top Gun tonight. I like the music even without the movie, but all of that went with the last computer crash. Note to self: ask Isabelle to really buy me an IPOD, the one with the speaker attachment (the ear plugs don’t hang in my ears, which is probably why I could never be a Secret Service presidential guard). Then every CD I have goes on; I also pull what’s left of my late 60s early 70s cassettes in the Whipperwhill House; and I add whatever from that list of music from Pandora. Com. After that, I’m fine. I will never have to listen to today’s music again.
Oops. Lost my train of thought. It is still a dark and dreary morning, but writing nonsense brings you out of your funk. Good. By the time I’m at the Embassy, I should be ready to schedule something, or at least work with Hanitra on her doing the scheduling. Old man speaking words of EXO wisdom to young FSN Executive Officer. Other note to self: get a good long walking staff, and grow beard longer; so that you look more like Gandalf. Enough for now.
Last night, or early evening anyway, (Now, I leave the apartment as the sun rises, maybe; and get home around the time it disappears.) Laure’s gone, so its Vohangy and me in the apartment. She putters around, making salads for the fridge, and dinner, which I didn’t eat last night. I’ll heat and eat tonight, though it looked good. Steak and green beans. Yes grasshopper, you have learned your lessons well, working with the iron cheftess. Yeah, I know. It isn’t a word, but what the hell, it works. Since I am no longer trusted to make anything healthy, instructions were clear. Don’t let him eat the crap he eats normally; and I’ll give her credit, she is working hard at following those instructions. As for me, I do what I do. By then, I’ve usually been up about twelve or more hours, and allow myself a catnap while she cleans around me, and hums now. I think we’ve worn off on her. Then she’s gone; and it quiets down immediately. Since we found the cache of DVDs at the Wilson’s I’ve got things to watch going to sleep at night. Sound of Music two nights ago; and Top Gun tonight. I like the music even without the movie, but all of that went with the last computer crash. Note to self: ask Isabelle to really buy me an IPOD, the one with the speaker attachment (the ear plugs don’t hang in my ears, which is probably why I could never be a Secret Service presidential guard). Then every CD I have goes on; I also pull what’s left of my late 60s early 70s cassettes in the Whipperwhill House; and I add whatever from that list of music from Pandora. Com. After that, I’m fine. I will never have to listen to today’s music again.
Oops. Lost my train of thought. It is still a dark and dreary morning, but writing nonsense brings you out of your funk. Good. By the time I’m at the Embassy, I should be ready to schedule something, or at least work with Hanitra on her doing the scheduling. Old man speaking words of EXO wisdom to young FSN Executive Officer. Other note to self: get a good long walking staff, and grow beard longer; so that you look more like Gandalf. Enough for now.
I miss you too... And poor Claude, I don't think he is used to the noise I make in the morning yet.
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