Last night I did have a temperature. Took my last sleeping pill and slept. Today whatever it is is there but not overwhelming. I’m in bed with tea and toast, the newspaper, the new New Yorker, a second book from the library – Citizen, by Claudia Rankine – with Actress by Anne Enright waiting. I’ve asked a neighbour to get tangelos for me from No Frills. There’s nothing as good as tangelos.
Forgot to mention an interesting encounter yesterday – with a director/actor/theatre teacher from the Bay area who loved my Jewish Shakespeare and wanted to discuss it. We talked via Zoom for an hour. I didn’t realize how much info is still stuffed in my head about the Yiddish theatre; it all came spouting out. He thinks the story of these volcanic personalities at the turn of the last century, the importance of theatre, the battles about ethics and personality that ended with thousands demonstrating in the streets, would make a fantastic TV series or film. I’ve long thought so.
I know I’m sick when I have tea for breakfast. But I’ll live. How the @#$@ did I get a flu bug, with constant mask wearing, distancing, hand washing? A careless moment. Lucky it wasn’t worse.
