My eyelids are drooping; the only thing that would wake me up today would be caffeine ingested through a needle, and the thought of that is enough to send me back to bed.
Days like today makes me hate New York, and charming pre-war buildings and everything and anything that I can think of. It’s a bad hair/bad mind day. Three Advil accomplished zilch.
Can’t write what I had planned to as my mind refuses to wake up and I keep on typing words like “walk” when I mean “wake.” That’s probably because I’m in dire need of a walk.
This weekend when almost everybody I know will be in Montauk, Springs and Shelter Island–all ways of not saying “Hamptons,” I will be in the city because I can write without too many distractions and walk on streets that tourists aren’t aware of, or don’t find exciting, but I do simply because they’re empty with occupants almost all away.
All the old houses in the Hamptons are mold breeders. This isn’t the way to keep a friendship going:
“Would you look to come to our house for the Fourth.”
me thinking rapidly, sheet didn’t they rent one in Springs?
“Springs is so lovely. Are you near the bay or the beach?”
me still thinking: what does it matter, have to find out what the house looks like.
The conversation goes on for five minutes, and I still don’t have a clue as to whether the house is old and moldy, or newer and air conditioned. I’m too polite to ask that pivotal question so I finally blurt out:
“I have an incredibly bad allergy to mold, don’t too great with pollen either, and I make a horrible house guest because I can only function after much expresso preferably ingested through my nostrils. Unless of course the weather’s perfect than I’m the guest you remember from the ’80’s when you rented that house in Sag Harbor….”
Which I believe caused helped this allergy become the thing that defines me so I continue;
“That’s why I only stay in ocean front motels with rooms directly on the ocean, but they’ve become so pricey, I find it easier to go to California.”
Then we get into the conversation: Briefly, I have given up on the entire Eastern Sea Coast because there’s way too much mold, threat of rain, hurricanes and more. I would much rather take my chances on earthquakes, and no I haven’t been to Washington State, or Oregon though I would love to go there because my coffee intake would be even greater than it is on days like today.
And after six cups of double expresso roast, my eyelids are still droopy, my head (actually wrote and published “hate”) hurts, and I’m allergic to most allergy medications. Weird but when I look in a mirror I don’t see droopy eyelids or any visible reminders of my allergies. People don’t believe me until they have the rare privilege of spending the weekend with me in a mold farm, and then they begin coming down with symptoms.
Really don’t mind my growing rep as a mold farm breeder. Though it does sound gross.