I got my COVID booster on Monday, and though the man who administered it downplayed the possibility of side effects, I spent most of yesterday in bed, a large part of it asleep. Of course, for a mild hypochondriac, it was the very best kind of malaise.
As someone who wears glasses, I’m happy to see how few Halloween costumes these days make use of masks.
Years ago in San Miguel de Allende I awoke from a nap and found an email from my then editor containing a glowing blurb for my new book from Paul Theroux. Now, whenever I wake up from a nap, I check my inbox with a sense of expectation.
Now that the circle of people who ignore emails has grown wider than ever – starting with editors and extending all the way to friends – I’m trying to limit the times I check my inbox so to minimize the inevitable disappointment. Over the weekend, I went to my phone on waking up and then not again till 5 pm. Yesterday was more difficult, as part of my workday is spent writing emails that will never be answered.
Saturday Hania and I drove to Sawgrass Mills, where – as always – I found a bench in the shade while she went around the shops. I had my paperback copy of Joan Didion’s Slouching Towards Bethlehem and the Review section of the weekend’s Wall Street Journal to keep me company.
As I sat there reading a review of Mary Beard’s new book Emperor of Rome it occurred to me what an anachronism I was. It seemed to me that I was the perfect subject for some young person’s candid street – or in this case, mall – photography.
About 10 minutes later a middle-aged man appeared, stopped, and looked at me in amused amazement. “A man reading a newspaper!” he exclaimed with delight. “Somebody ought to take a picture!”
After my cleaning yesterday I picked up a Reese’s peanut butter cup from the stash of Halloween candy on the receptionist's counter.