Could it be that this dark cloud over me is lifting? I hope so because lately I have been depressed and unable to shake it.
Today, three good things happened: I had a message from Peter Zaremba of the Fleshtones and I’m hoping to go see them play in Bergerac this coming Sunday. I may have seen their first gig ever at little Club 57 and many times after, but it has been awhile. I even forgive them for that time after Mardi Gras when we were held by police because they left the hotel without paying – I know it wasn’t their fault.
What else – I sent off all my tax info, shockingly early. That audit put the fear of God and/or the IRS in me and my record keeping this past year was the work of a pedant-in-training. One of the benefits of time spent in France!
But the most wonderful thing that made me feel like a queen or princess at least – a guy came and cut back the fruit trees. They were a brambled, tangled mess and one or two of them were threatening to die. I haven’t known the luxury of paid household help but this was better than that because I can definitely clean and scrub but knowing how to deal with plants and trees is beyond me. The local garden man worked like a demon out there and when he finally came in, scratched and sweaty, I felt like Marie Antoinette as I offered him something cool to drink. But he had other clients to see.
Now there’s a pile of branches in the garden and even though it’s not exactly legal to burn stuff in your backyard, the jardinier said as long as there aren’t high winds like there were this weekend everyone does it. And since Eric and I have spent the last two months doing an informal stage on blowing shit up and watching stuff burn, I think we’re up to the task.