Filing cabinet
This second day: struggling with the different structure of the day (unbearably hot in the early afternoon, which means I should have gotten up earlier; trying to sleep, then wake, at peculiar times – I remember the gnomic statement made by Dennis, years ago: "No one knows when the Spanish sleep"); but struggling even more with what to wear, with looking ungainly, not only next to the svelte Spaniards, but also next to the dramatically overbuilt International Gay Set.
Of course, I shouldn't care, but it's hard to ignore completely – and why did there have to be a room-length mirror in the nearby grocery store, I was doing just fine until I looked up at myself –
A week or two ago, I looked in the mirror at home and said: my God, I'm a filing cabinet. Square, ungainly, hopeless. Sigh.
Although, as a friend later pointed out to me: filing is, at least, useful....
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